Fire & Gold
by Playingaaronburr
Summary: Sansa Stark escaped with Tyrion and Varys across the sea to Pentos. And while under the tutelge of Varys and Daenarys, Sansa becomes a stronger and braver woman who falls in love with the Imp who is scared to feel for her. *Rating has changed
1. Prologue

**Yay! Revision!**

 **And shorter AN's thank you all for reading!**

* * *

 _ **Fire & Gold **_

**Prologue**

 _We return to the sea and when we do, from whence we came._

Sansa stood over her husband's small body. His eyes were pinched tightly together and instead of the usual scroll or wineskin - a large crossbow, almost the size of his arm, was held tightly in his hand. She had never been on the sea before. She had seen it from the castle of King's Landing. It seemed to stretch on forever and the sun seemed the only destination you could reach. The wind was thick with salt and the waves rolled against the large ship.

" _If you want to live come with me now!"_

" _If you want to live-"_

Her eyes never drifted from her husband's face as she pulled the crossbow from his grasp. His mouth clenched and his grip tightened. Sansa placed her hand on his own and she was able to pull it from him. It was a crude instrument yet beautifully crafted. And she threw it overboard.

It floated for just a moment above the surface of the water before it sunk into the ocean. The water black and foamy.

" _Come with me now!"_

She had wrestled away from him and hurried to Tyrion's side, pulling him, pulling him. Joffrey's face had turned an evil shade of purple, his eyes wide and red and violent in his struggle. She had had pity for him, if only for a moment when his gnarled hand turned to her, to Tyrion. Her throat had seized and her grip turned white as she held onto had heard a scream when Tyrion was torn from her grip. It was only later that she realized she had been the one screaming. Sansa still held a piece of wine red fabric, the mane of a golden lion still slightly visible.

Sansa stood and peered out the window of the small cabin. They had been on this ship for a week, according to Varys. A week in this room. She gingerly touched the thick brown hair that hung down her back. It would fade soon and her original hair color would return and she hoped they would be in Pentos by then. Pentos. Arya had always been the one who ached for adventure. It didn't matter wher, traveling was something that had never bothered her. Sansa had never been interested in the world beyond Westeros. She loved her country and its history of knights and princess, of beautiful maiden and songs. That had been before. Before Joffrey.

She saw her life like that. There was Before Joffrey, when she had been just an innocent child. There was During Joffrey, when she had suffered at his hands - at the mercy of his whims - and had lived each day in fear. The After Joffrey had only begun and already she was afraid.

"Are you alright, My Lady?"

She jumped.

The Spider.

"Forgive me, My Lord," she whispered. Sansa tightened her arms around her chest.

"I am not a Lord, My Lady," he replied, "And there is nothing for you to be afraid of"

She remembered the men who had been aboard the ship.. Seven men bustling around, laughing heartily. Traders who had never heard of the Lions and the Wolves. They had no interest in the politics of Westeros and had no care in who they ferried as long as they were paid.

"Best not to wander," Varys said, reading her thoughts.

He turned to leave.

"Will...will he wake up?," Sansa whispered.

Her voice was rough from misuse and the raspy sound made her wince.

"Do not worry, Lady Stark, your hu-"

She winced. Again.

"Lord will be fine," he finished somewhat lamely.

"What am I to do now, Varys?"

Varys stared at her for a long moment as the boat to Pentos carried them through the sea. The air was thick and the silence began to grow heavy.

"What you do now, Sansa Stark, is up to you"

He turned away and left the small cabin.

The boat tipped and flew through the water and Sansaclungonto the window as Westeros disappeared.

* * *

 **Been getting a lot of DMS about why the title is changing and that's because of a song I recently heard that reminds me of Sansa and Tyrion**

 **And also because Broken Things just started to sound really sad :( No sadness so...**

 **Fire & Gold XD **


	2. Chapter 1 - Pentos

_**Fire & Gold **_

**Chapter One - Pentos**

 _Safety is like a blooming flower. Sweet and soft and able to be crushed without consequence._

The island rose above the water and Sansa, curious, leaned closer to the window. Hundreds of people walked and pushed their way through the port - it wasn't unlike King's Landing. But while King's Landing had swelled with thin, penniless bodies, there was something breathtaking about the city. It's buildings were a bright cream color and the most exotic colors flashed throughout the port. She felt a world's away from home.

And something in her settled.

There was a flurry a movement behind her and a thick, gruff curse of indignation,

Tyrion.

He had awoken almost three days before. And she still remembered his grief. He awoke with a shout and when Sansa had reached for him, to quiet him, he had gripped her small, white wrists.

" _Shae!"_

 _Sansa felt her eyes widen and her heart thundered to a stop in her chest._

" _My Lord, please"_

 _The grip on her - his grip on her - had become painful._

" _Sansa," his voice was filled with confusion and surprise._

" _My Lord"_

 _His hands flew away from her._

" _Where-," he murmured,"Where are we?!"_

" _We're headed to Pentos, my Lord," Sansa replied, "Don't you remember Escaping King's Landing?"_

 _Tyrion stared at her, his eyes wandering over her face, her darkened hair._

" _Lady Stark I do hope-"_

 _A small sound of commotion and Varys appeared behind the door. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw them. Sansa close to Tyrion's face, Tyrion's small, rough hands attached to her wrist._

The journey had taken three days full of silence. They had not spoken a word to each other and had instead regulated themselves to opposite ends of the room. Tyrion began to smell of wine and rotting food, confined to his grief. Sansa had tried her best to rid the room of the smell but it continued to reek. Varys visited only once and instead of talking about the future they had only talked about mundane things like the weather. They had learned their lesson when Tyrion had stilled when Varys mention little birds and King's Landing.

The silence was soon interrupted by Varys.

"We have landed in Pentos, my Lord, my Lady," Varys said.

"Now, my lady if you will"

Sansa pulled the long, brown cloak from her bed. The material was rough but sturdy and would cover her through the walk to the Palace. Varys had thought of everything. Her hair - although fading - had turned from a dark muddy brown to a dark copper. While in the cabin she had been relentlessly pulling and undoing any Lion emblems. Now her once beautifully embroidered black dress was now simple. Varys had told her that her darkened hair color and unimpressive clothing would keep her hidden until they were safe. Her heart began to thud in her chest.

"My Lord," Varys said, gesturing to a thick crate.

The crate was lined with holes, and Vary's servant, Hoyte, would carry it through the streets of Pentos. Hoyte stood at least seven feet tall but even at his height Sansa had not seen him since the night the ship took off.

After Tyrion was placed within the crate, the four of them began their slow journey to the deck and off the ship.

The harbor was full of people, sailors, merchants and women lined the deck waiting for merchandise. A group of women, one lady and two teens stood in sheer orange fabric, smiling at a man aboard a long ship. He was smiling as he jumped down from his perch on the ships helm. Sansa watched them embrace before Hoyte began to gently nudge her on.

The street of Pentos was full of children playing and people moving. She had never seen so many people so busy. In Winterfell she had been confined to the castle and its surrounding buildings, she had never been able to mingle with any of the other people besides her Septa and the servants. And while in King's Landing she had been denied any contact with people outside of the Tyrells and the Lannisters.

Sansa stayed close to Varys and the walk to Illyrio's mansion.

The room they led them to was surrounded by flowers and greenery. It climbed the walls of the building loomed out of tall green trees and a wall protected the house from hurried to the edge of the balcony and reached for the small yellow flowers that covered the wall.

The air was filled with salt and the sweet fragrance of flowers and moist dirt.

A loud clatter shook the peaceful silence. Sansa turned to find Tyrion with a pitcher of wine and a thick clay glass. She began to walk towards him and took the glass and the wine. It poured softly into the glass and she held it out to him.

"Pentos," Tyrion asked as he took a long swallow.

"The House of Illyrio Mopatis," Varys replied.

"I met Mopatis many years ago, through mutual friends. A group of people who saw Robert Baratheon for the disaster that he was, interested in a Targaryen Restoration. But a chain of mistakes has led us to this moment. And things have not gotten better."

The room grew silent and Sansa watched Tyrion wander around the room in a drunken daze.

"Westeros needs to be saved from those who wish to tear it apart," Varys pressed.

"Much better," Tyrion whispered into his cup after he had belched.

"My Lord?," Sansa said, beginning to rise from her chair.

"I'm not sure I am that anymore. A Lord. Can you still be a Lord if you kill your own father? I don't think killing a whore would really bother the nobility but killing a Lord? The poor ladies of Westeros will faint in their beds"

Tyrion sloshed another drink into his cup, his chin stained with wine.

Varys walked closer, "You have drank a hundred men's weight in wine"

"And why stop there" Tyrion replied, gulping his ale.

"Because we are talking about the future of our country and the people within it," Varys replied. His irritation had crept into her voice and for the first time Sansa was fearful of the eunuch's anger.

"The future is shit," Tyrion replied, "And so is the past - so what is the point Varys?!"

"You once told me that my Lady Mother would want me to carry on," Sansa said, touching Tyrion's shoulder, "Ser Jaime would want you to do the same"

She stepped out of the way just in time as Tyrion began to hurl wine onto the white marble of the room, his small body violently shaking.

He stood back up, his small hands clenching and relaxing. He reached for the pitcher again. Sansa swiped it from him and began her walk to the balcony again. She took a swing out of the pitcher and gentle dropped it over the railing. The soft crunch of the clay made her give Tyrion and Varys a tiny smile.

"That was very rude, My Lady," Tyrion replied, rubbing his forehead.


	3. Chapter 2 - Needle

**Fire & Gold **

**Chapter Two - Needle**

 _Dare to become what they declared you could never be._

* * *

 _ **Across The Narrow Sea**_

 _ **Pentos**_

 _ **The House of Illyrio Mopatis**_

Sansa stood as still as she could as the woman moved around her, poking her with sharp needles. The young woman, Ura, was softly pale, her hair thick and dark. But her eyes were a sea green and her lips were a chipped red. As Ura began to move closer to Sansa neck, she began to shake - her fingers twitching.

"Stay still, ma'am, or you might get pricked!," the girl finally exclaimed in exasperation.

Sansa blushed,"Sorry it's just…"

"Don't worry,"Ura replied, as Sansa helplessly gestured to her throat,"No one wants to make enemies of the Spider"

There was a rustle before the door swung open revealing one of the women that had been serving Sansa.

"My Lady, His Lordship wishes to see you in the gardens."

Sansa carefully moved off of the stool, Ura holding the dress tactfully away from her. It slipped off of her body like silk. It's color a light blue. The dress was soft yet modest. The two dresses that had been sent for her to wear had two distinct purposes. The dark one was thick and would allow her body to move swiftly. It would also stand up against any harsh weather or conditions she might face. The blue dress, however, closely resembled her courtly dresses. It would give her status and a name. Something dangerous on the streets alone in Pentos, but valuable when speaking to important people.

She began the walk to Lord Illyrio's gardens. Sansa had walked the entire house when they first arrived. Walking from the large golden walls to the cold kitchens to the garden walls and up the stairs to the offices of Lord Illyrio. She methodically moved through the halls and out the door leading to the gardens.

The gardens were lush with extoic flowers and the gardeners had allowed hundreds vines to curve around the back of the house and over the golden bar of the stairs. She followed the girl to the center before she finally saw Tyrion.

He hadn't drunk a drop of wine or ale and there was something more clear in his eyes. They hadn't been alone like this in weeks and she had missed his company. But Tyrion had been acting in a way that led her to believe he was avoiding her. He was staring off into the distance - a slight pinch in between his eyes that usually meant he was thinking hard about something. Sansa wondered if he was thinking about home.

"My Lord?," Sansa murmured.

Tyrion shook himself out of his thoughts and gave her a small smile.

"Lady Stark"

Sansa approached him slowly.

"Are you alright, My Lord?"

Tyrion gave her a small smile,"Not really, My Lady"

They turned away from the balcony and took a seat in the silver chairs that lined the center of the garden. It was quiet for a moment and they sat still and listened to the rustle of the large trees overhead. The air was warm and fragrant with flowers and sea and salt and dirt.

"I am going on a trip with Lord Varys, we are headed into certain danger."

"Certain?," Sansa asked.

Tyrion stared at her for a moment before he took a large gulp of the cup on the table. He ran his small, stunted fingers over his chair's arm.

"Have you enjoyed your time in Illyrio's House?"

"Yes," the response was automatic and Tyrion knew that after months of agreeing, singing like a bird, to never take her first response as truth.

"I - I feel safe here," Sansa said,"Does that make me a fool?"

He turned away from her.

"While I am gone, you will remain here - Varys will see to it that you are provided for-"

"No!"

Sansa's head swirled - her heart thundered in her chest.

"You will leave me here!"

"Alone!"

The shock was almost too much for her. And she remembered those terrifying months of being alone. Of being Joffrey's plaything. Of almost dying. Of being so horribly alone. Sansa stood, her eyes flashing.

Tyrion stared at her, slightly shocked and confused.

"I was alone once, Sansa's voice and body shook, I was so terribly alone"

"Sansa," Tyrion said, meeting her eyes,"Joffrey is dead"

Sansa pursed her lips and her skin went from red to pale white in a second.

"Lord Varys said I was free, that I could do what I wanted."

Sansa knawed on her bottom lip, rubbing her tongue over the wounded flesh. She spun around and clasped her hands tightly together - squeezing them until they turned white.

"I am going with you"

She walked away from his shocked gaze.

 **Westeros**

 **The Wall**

 **Castle Black**

 **A Week Before**

Jon massaged the soft skin on his chest. His other hand was laid against his heart. The thump! thump! of his heartbeat was strangely soothing. His skin was bare in the frozen cold, only his legs and feet were covered. Gooseflesh wrinkled his skin.

He had died.

He had died from the stabbings of his own people. His hand now shook with rage.

Jon's wrist snapped forward, slinging the clay cup of water against the wall. It broke into a thousand pieces and one small jagged pieces cut against his arm. The cuts from his men covered his body - all smooth cuts that had been meant to kill.

 _He had died._

The thought shook him to his core.

He had forgotten something - something important. His body shook again - his mouth going slack with the pain, his was determined to remember.

Jon _had_ to.

Jon closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember his dream.

His dream of death.

A rough yet soft hand curled around his cheek. A man whose eyes and nose were gone smiled down at him. Two laughlines were imprinted on his skin. His soft white hair was thick and had the same texture as his own.

"Do not go far, you will return soon"

There was a stuttering and the man's body seemed to shake and go out of focus.

" _You are my son_ "

He had _died._

How could he tell them. That a man whose face who was proclaiming to be his father was covered in shadows. Ned Stark had never been one for shadows. Or mythism. He had never been one for theatrics or dramatics and yet Jon felt a strange sense of peace when he had stood in front of the man.

As if his being a bastard, as if being a Snow, as if being lesser than any of his half siblings wasn't important anymore. Then his body shook again, a fierce tremor of pain and confusion. And then his eyes closed, unaware of the presence that gently laid him down.

" _You are my son"_


	4. Chapter 3 - Balance

**This chapter is a little choppy but I was really excited about two things in this chapter so tell me if you are excited about it too. Also I start school on Monday.  
Is your senior year really as crazy as everyone says. Any mistakes are mine and I think you all for your awesome reviews, favorites and follows. I am so glad  
that you enjoy it! :) Also, thank you for reading!**

* * *

 **Broken Things**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Balance**

Across the Narrow Sea

The Road to Mereen

* * *

The forest was thick and dark, the breeze shifting the limbs of the trees. The two wagons rumbled on the road, shaking and swaying. Varys had planned to travel light in order to  
give the impression of lowly lords. But after the accommodating of so many servants, four guards, Sansa, Tyrion and himself there was no way that a single carriage would keep them all hidden.

There was a wagon Vary's and Tyrios and Sansa's small carriage. Her handmaiden slept in her carriage with her with her while Brynden slept outside along with the four guards.

Tyrion watched his wife run beside the carriage, Brynden stayed close to her side, urging her on. Sansa had been training relentlessly with Brynden and he had found himself growing...un-nerved  
by the large amount of time they spent together. Tyrion wasn't jealous, as Varys had so lovingly claimed, it was just that he felt protective over his young wife. Or that's what he told himself.

He took another swing of his wine before sliding into the seat beside Varys. The journey had been long and difficult and he had grown increasingly tired as it wore on. Tyrion felt alone. And even  
though his father hated him, even though his sister detested him, he had always had the advantage of a pack. A family who would stand beside him. Now, he was wandering through the forest,  
stomach filled with wine, and no one but an eurchan, sellswords and a distant wife for company. And he was getting tired of Varys' constant pestering. He's conversations were becoming so  
familiar that sparring with him was like drinking out of his flask. A way to pass the time but boring. He remembered their conversation from the other day and nearly winced at how hurt the  
eunuch had looked.

Varys stared at him before saying, "You know you won't find what you're looking for at the bottom of that pitcher"

"And just what is it that that I am looking for," Tyrion asked after belching.

"Hope, Daenarys Targaryen is the true queen of Westeros and she is able to inspire the people-"

"Have you ever thought that maybe the lowly people don't want to be inspired," Tyrion asked,"Maybe they just want healthy babes and a healthier harvest?"

"But Daenarys will be able to ensure that"

"How!." Tyrion demanded,"You say her achievements are great, that she freed slaves, Boras Targaryean did that and yet when it came down to it they still cut his head off"

"Boras Targaryean was a cruel man"

Tyrion stared at him, his eyes blank,"I know you may not know a lot about this eunuch but women can be just as cruel"

He remembered large green eyes that were filled with contempt, soft brown eyes that burned with hatred and something inside of Tyrion Laninister broke and he could almost hear the shatter.

* * *

Sansa slid her left foot to the side, her right foot firm on the ground.

"You're not breathing Sansa," Brynden growled.

"I am," she huffed.

Sansa jumped when the flat of Brynden's swords smacked her on the shin.

"If you had been breathing you would not have moved"

"I moved because you hit me," Sansa snapped, putting her foot back on the ground.

She clutched her shin as the flat of Brynden's sword hit her again.

"Balance is the key to fighting," Brynden said,"You-"

"Robb never had to worry about balance," Sansa commented

"And was Robb large, a strong "wolf"?," he asked.

"Yes, so was father," she said.

Brynden smiled and tapped his temple, "Think, Lady Stark"

She remembered for a moment, she remembered the size of Robb and Theon who lunged at each other across the practice range at Winterfell and how they had grappled with each other. And then she  
thought about how Brynden always made her run and how slowly and slowly she got faster and faster. And how determined Brynden was to make sure she had perfect balance.

"I'm smaller than Robb"

"Exactly!", Brynden said, snapping his fingers,"You are smaller and thinner, so in order to outsmart an opponents that larger you must…"

"Be faster!," Sansa said, triumphantly.

The flat of his sword smacked her shin again and she began to hop up and down in pain.

"Be balanced!"

Sansa huffed, and grounded her teeth together, before return to her stance.

"Balance!"

The next smack sent birds soaring out of the forest and into the clouds.

* * *

 _Westeros_

 _The Wall_

 _Castle Black_

* * *

The wind raced around him, swirling his hair, and he shivered as the cold turned icy. The last remnants of the Night's Watch stood huddled around the hanging bend. They were all shocked and  
Jon felt the eyes of his brother's. They were as shocked as he was and he felt Melissandre's eyes on his back. He would never forget this. The awkwardness of his first days, the companionship he found  
and his eventual betrayal.

He wondered where he drew the strength to do this.

Jon grasped the later part of the handle, his grip tight. He had never felt so much rage, or anger or pain. Not since the death of Robb or his father.

He stared into the faces of the men who had betrayed him and pushed.

 _ **Later**_

The dream started off slow. He sat in a thick garden - filled with flowers, the sun hot upon his face. The dirt was warm, and wet, beneath his body and yet he continued to lay still, enjoying the heat.  
There was a flurry of activity and the unfamiliar voices of two small children.

"Jon!."

There was loud noise near him before two small bodies landed on his stomach. He groaned and smiled up at the two little girls that were now smiling gooey smiles above him.

"Elaina, Lyarra, I thought you guys were with Ura?"

"We sneaked away!," Elaina said, excitedly.

The girls had the same large violet eyes, the same pale skin but their hair was thick and black.

"And what are you three doing here?"

Jon looked up and met the gaze of a beautiful, proud woman with glasses sliding on the edge of her nose.

"Enjoying the breeze, Rhaella,"

She humphed at him and took a seat on the intricately designed bench near them.

He heard the sounds of someone racing through the grass and he watched as his brother hid in the bushes. Aegon smirked as the servants he was running from ran in the opposite direction and when  
Aegon met Jon's gaze he let out a laugh of excitement.

Aegon was the only child to have silver hair and violet eyes but his skin was darker and even at the age of 16 years he still acted like a child. He was only ever serious when Rhaella was around.

Jon settled back into the ground as his siblings played and talked around him.

"Life would have been perfect"

Jon opened up his eyes to see a pure white space and although he could tell someone was beside him he couldn't turn to look at him.

"Who are you?"

"In time, Jon"

"Why must you always speak in riddles!" Jon demanded.

"You are just like your mother, the voice said filled with laughter, but don't worry - she knows you too"

"You know my mother"

"You'll be recieveing something in a couple of weeks, approach it slowly though, they're rather skittish at that age"

"What's skittish?"

And then, he woke up.

* * *

The dragon stared off into the distance its eyes twitching. It had been restless for months, moving its eyes back and forth. Drogon snapped at him, encouraging him to sleep but Rhaegal's entire body  
drummed with adrenaline. He yawned and watched the sky and the moon. The three dragons had been living on the edge of the mountain pass for a week now, keeping an eye on their mother but they  
had enjoyed the week of eating goats and knocking down trees but now Rhaegal was filled with anxiety. Viserion stared at him, eyes filled with wisdom.

 _You are restless brother._

Rhaegal shook his head.

Drogon opened a large black eye

 _We will return to mother soon._

 _It's not that, I just feel anxious._

Drogon and Viserion both continued to stare at him and followed him with eyes as he left the cave.

Rhaegal stood at the edge of the cliff, his wings not yet open, the wind running over his scales. The moon was high above him and he stared at it, his large head laying over his had always been like was  
the strongest, Viserion was the smartest, he was the fastest. That was who they were and even though Mother obviously favored Drogon he was fine with that. He was a dragon - fierce, stared down at  
the cave and saw the smoke of Drogon's breath and Viserion's tail. And he opened his wings, feeling the rush of the wind on his wings and jumped. He rode the wind's currents, slipping  
through the cracks of the canyon. He watched the creature's below scurry as his shadow passed over the forest.

He kept going, the mountains, Viserion, Drogo and Mother fading into the distance.

Rhaegal flew above the clouds.

He flew North.

* * *

 **I'm already writing the next chapter and I can't wait for you all to read it! I hope you enjoy this story nd I thank you all again for reading :)**

 **I can't believe the amount of support this story has and how many people have favorited (now if you guys could just review like type good or terrible and then click submit)** **But don't worry I'm not going to be like those who are like give 50 reviews or I wont update because f that I love to write you guys obviously love to read it so there you go!**


	5. Chapter 4 - Shrouds

**You might be asking yourself, "Hey, Reara, why haven't you updated?" Because, sleep, Empire, Game of Thrones, college classes and dollar McDonald Drinks. Anyway thanks for reading and liking this story! I will try my best to update more often and I am so glad so many people like this story it makes me so happy! BTW - Expect another story about Game of Thrones Soon!**

 **Dedicated to all of the people who were affected by Hurricane Harvey! Thoughts and prayers! 3**

* * *

 **Broken Things**

 **Chapter Four**

 **Shrouds**

Westeros

King's Landing

* * *

Cersei stared at the large portrait of her son. She watched his beautiful eyes and his beautiful blonde hair. Joffrey was a proud boy - regal and cruel - and she had known how cruel he could be but had ignored it. And just as she cultivated the sweetness of Myrcella and the gentleness of Tommen she had encouraged the proudness of her eldest son. She knew what they called him. Monster. Bastard. But she loved him. And Cersei would do anything in her power to destroy the people who had hurt her boy - starting with that bitch Sansa.

She continued to stare at it, and smiled as proud smile.

There were her children and Cersei felt something in her heartbreak as she remembered the frightened face of her young son as the Maesters placed a stag's crown on his face, his hands turning white as they grasped the scepter of honor and the jewel of duty. He was not ready to rule and she wept for her little boy. She always knew that Joffrey would have to grow up faster and to honor her house with his rule but Tommen was her baby boy and she grasped fruitlessly for anyway to keep him close. Cersei remembered the look on her family's face, cold and stoic, as if her son was just another chest piece in this game. The people of court, the little women, the ugly men, who stared at her son as if her were a prize.

Cersei wondered, not for the first time, where Tommen's goodness, where Myrcella's kindess, flowed from. She wondered then if that story of mad Targaryen's was true and if Joffrey had been unlucky when the God's had flipped the coin.

More then her grief had come out of Joffrey's death, as she began her slow limp towards her chamber's. Every step seemed long and an arduous task for her. The Healers and Maester's had all described her constant leg pain's as a weeping injury. A mystic pain that had come from her grief of her son's death. He had prescribed drilling in order to end her pain but she had unceremoniously had the old man thrown from her chambers. They had stolen her child and now they wanted to steal the only thing that connected them.

When Jamie had her of her plight and the death of their son, he had only grown silent.

"Keep your pain, he had whispered to her, as he held her close, and I will not shame you for it."

(His next words had broken her heart, although she had remained silent when, and after, he muttered them.

"As long as you will not shame me for not caring"

Jaime had always known how best to hurt her.

He wasn't the fool, or the idiot, she often claimed him to be.

The fool she had always hoped he was.

* * *

Westeros

* * *

Viserion had never seen so many people. They were clustered tightly around stalls and running through the roads.

They were grayer then those of Meeren, no brightly colored fabrics littered the streets, and the men were larger, redder, the women sickly and pale.

He wondered where they were going and why they seemed so tired.

He missed Drogon and he missed Rhaegal and he missed his Mther even more.

Unlike Drogon and Rhaegal he remembered the day he was born. The smoke that had filled his mouth, the sand that had blackened beneath his feet. He remembered his Mother holding him to her chest. And her awed stare. She seemed amazed at their birth. Viserion had been amazed at her. His mother who's hair was pure white and her eyes that were clear violet. He had never seen someone so beautiful.

She had ran her fingers gently over her head.

There had been a period after their birth that she had seemed almost hesitant to touch them. And he remembered her tears when they had curled closed to her and kept her warm.

He should have never left.

Viserion took of, rising high above the clouds. He had found out early that people's fear of him was not just in the islands but it was everywhere.

* * *

Across The Narrow Sea

The Road To Meereen

* * *

Sansa watched the dance of the fire as it chewed on the logs, the rumbles and crack unintentionally loud in the dark. It was cool here and she watched as her handmaiden, Daphne, shivered. She huddled closer to the fire, stretching out her hands. Sansa felt a distant chill and felt a growing sadness. A year ago she would have laughed at this cold but now after months of warmth her body shivered at the brisk wind that rolled through the campsite.

Brynden sat to her side, polishing his sword, lovingly stroking the blade. There was a familiar crest and yet she couldn't quite place its owner. But the handle and its shine made her believe that his blade was more than just a simple sellswords.

"Who's seal is that?," she asked curiosuly.

Brynden looked up at her and gave her a crooked smile

"It is the signal of my family," he said, softly, one pointed finger gently stroking the seal.

"You probably would not have heard of them"

Sansa stared at the signal and watched as if shimmered. Three dragons, heads reared back in defiance, with a single pink pearl at the base, before the blade became visible.

"That the signal of the Targaryen House," she whispered.

Brynden stared at her for a moment, gave the blade one last wipe, before he slid it back into his sheath.

"We all have secrets, my lady"

Sansa nodded, solemnly, before she leaned closer to the fire.

* * *

 **I have no idea what to say now but thank you to everyone who has read this story! You guys have no idea how amazing it is to see ya'll reviews! I'll be updating very soon! Thank you again.**

 *****Also depending on where you guys live, Hurricane Harvey hit Texas pretty hard, and if you haven't seen the pictures it's a heartbreaking situation. So I am encouraging all of you to send something to help out! They desperately need blankets, food, tampons & pads, pillows and toys and diapers, dog food, cat food, fish food. There's a lot that needs to be done so send what you can! Yes, I know toys seems like a strange thing to want to send but seriously if I had lost everything I would want to snuggle with a giant bear. So help out! #**


	6. Chapter 5 - Pneumbra

**So this is my first update in a long while! Please check out some of my stories and leave a review! Thank you all soooo much for your support, your favs and your follows! They mean a lot!**

 **I really cannot believe how much this story has grown in the past few months and how many of you have reviewed, followed and favorited.**

 **Thank you all ( again ) so much!**

* * *

 **Broken Things**

 **Chapter Six**

 **The Penumbra**

 **Westeros**

 **The Wall**

* * *

Jon thought that he was dreaming when the dragon landed in front of him.

The dragon's wings spread like a blanket of shadow across the snow. It melted under the dragon's feet. His eye was large and merciless. There was a strange bittersweet pride that seemed to make the dragons head just a little bit straighter, its claws just a little bit sharper. The dragon was not cocky, or arrogant, but the slight arch to his head made him seem sure of his power. As if he never doubted for a second that he could win.

In any contest.

In any game.

The shock almost brought Jon to his knees.

Almost.

The dragon, leaned down to stare at him, one yellow eye fixed on him.

"Who are you, little one, and why have you summoned me?"

The dragon's voice was soft and wise. It reminded him of his father, of the keeper of the records at Winterfell.

As if they had seen much and did not have the patience to glorify it.

"I...I-I did not summon you," Jon whispered, his mind frozen.

The dragon continued to stare at him, his head coaxed to the side before he inched ever closer.

The dragons head, hitting against his shoulder, was almost unimaginable.

His body sung with its touch.

Filled with fire, music, and warmth. Jon leaned into it, for the first time at peace, he felt alive. His body restful, his mind clear.

"You are very sick, little one," the yellow-eyed dragon whispered.

His skin smelled of smoke.

"I'm sorry," Jon murmured, his head spinning.

And Jon passed out.

Again.

* * *

 **Across the Narrow Sea**

 **The Road to Meeren**

* * *

The days had blended together for the small crew as they traveled the seemingly neverending road towards Meeren.

Sansa's training continued to harden her, her skin, from constant hours in the sunlight, started to turn darker, her red hair became vibrant and  
flashed when she "danced" with Bryden through the swirling trees. Her body had become toned, and she was no longer skinny but slim and muscular.  
The long mile jogs were no longer an issue for her and she relished running through the undergrowth.

Brynden trained Sansa even more now. How to fight with a long sword and a small knife.

He had even brought her two blades.

A slip of a knife with a definite curve to it. It curved so much that it almost touched the handle.

"What is this for, then?" Sansa had asked when Bryden had first told her that she was only to kill with the outer curve.

He stared at her for a moment before laying the knife around her throat.

"When you have no more options," he murmured.

Brynden had remained quiet for the rest of the night, his gaze distant and unnerving.

The second blade that Brynden had brought for her was a short, narrow sword. Its edge was sharp and its point blunt.

"For the ribs," Brynden like to say when she tried to cut him.

Fighting with two weapons was almost as easy as breathing. The advantages of the sword were amazing. Its edge was perfect for pushing back Bryden's blade when  
it swung - slashing - at her. The dagger was small and was built for hand-to-hand combat. Bryden showed her how to swing it under the ribs over her enemies.  
She had to be fast and when she fought with the small blade she was her most vulnerable.

She loved fighting.

 **\- A Few Days Later -**

Tyrion liked the shift in his wife.

Their talks before their journey to Meeren had been stunted, almost nonexistent.

Half of the time he could count on his fingers the words they had said to each other.

But now.

Now Sansa smiled.

He liked to believe that he had been apart of that change but knew it really had to do with her training, with the sweet girl Varys had brought to be Sansa's handmaiden.

It couldn't possibly be him.

Could it?

He swirled the water in his mouth as he watched his w- Sansa fight Brynden, her long red hair flashing in the sunlight.

Tyrion smiled as he remembered their conversation from that morning.

 _"Good morning, Lord Tyrion," she had said, a bright smile on her face._

 _"Lady Sansa, he said, grabbing his plate from the girl, Daphne, you seem bluer than usual."_

 _Sansa's entire neck, arms, and legs were covered in large blue bruises. Seeing this caused a familiar emotion to feel his mind._

 _Anger?_

 _But Sansa's answer had made him laugh, his head shaking in disbelief._

 _"You seem less intoxicated, my lord, perhaps we are all experiencing unusual circumstances this morning," Sansa had replied, a flash of fire in her eyes._

 _The camp had grown quiet then, the only sound the snapping of logs._

 _And then Tyrion had laughed. His eyes filling up with tears. The rest of the group had joined in, Brynden falling from his perch on the rock he sat on at the edge of the clearing._

 _Even Daphne, the shy girl that she was, snickered under her breath._

 _Sansa had blushed then, realizing that Tyrion had only been teasing._

 _"I-I meant no offense,_ my _lord," she then murmured, biting her lip._

 _Tyrion stared at her, a smile of pure fondness on his face._

 _"None at all_? _" he asked._

 _Perhaps,_ unconsciously _, Sansa shrugged._

 _That sent Bryden roaring again, his clothes covered in dirt._

He smiled at her, watching as she fought and for a moment they met each other's eyes.

Her entire face froze for a moment and she gave him a hesitant smile that sent a warmth through Tyrion's body as he stared at her.

When had Sansa become so beautiful?

Sansa continued to stare at him and seemed too distracted to notice Bryden's sword.

It swung and smacked her right between the shoulder blades.

Tyrion shivered when he saw anger light up her face, her eyes gleaming in rage.

When had Sansa become...seductive?

* * *

Those who did not know Sansa Stark might have thought she still hated her grotesque little husband. They might think that being in the same room with him for too long would be too much for her, much less wandering through a forest. But their long walks and the time they had spent couped up together had changed that.

Sansa had grown to like Tyrion Lannister, and he had grown to like her in return. She was gentle, and sweet, but no more innocent then he. Her mind, after years spent at court, even as a plaything, was sharp and underestimated - which he watched her use to her advantage multiple times as they wandered through fish towns and farmhouses. A sweet, lady hand there, a small word of pity there, and he watched as she got exactly what she wanted.

No more, no less.

Sansa had begun to develop confusing feelings for her husband as well. His witty tongue and sharp eyes made her curious. Tyrion was one of the first people to treat her like she had a brain. He asked her opinion. About the war. About his family. About their journey. He took no sympathy and gave none to her either. But his voice was soft and his touch, when he did touch her, softer still. Tyrion could be gentle, she had seen it when he had pet a small mare, whose ribs had poked through its yellow skin. Tyrion had brought it for her as a surprise. And she had seen his gentleness the night before their journey when he brushed out her hair, his touch gentle and sure. And a part of her, that still believed in Lord Grange the Brave and Sir Henry Percy, fancied herself in love with him.

That had changed quickly though. In the past few hours? Minutes?

When Tyrion had left earlier there had been nothing remise.

Nothing.

They were still a group of luxurious people headed to a luxurious city - no different from any other traveler.

But then Varys had come back alone.

They had been wandering through the capital, into a whore house no less, and Tyrion had quite simply disappeared.

Gone.

Vanished.

Sansa rubbed her temples in aggravation.

Varys had said that another little bird had told him the Tyrion had been kidnapped -

"Or dwarf-napped," Bryden supplied.

\- by a man named Jorah Mormont.

Sansa sighed and grabbed the edge of the carriage as it rocked.

 _"We should continue to Daenerys_ Targaryean _,_ Varys had told her, _it is possible that Mormont is headed back toward the Queen, we should be there in a day or two."_

She had been surprised when he had asked her of all people to make a decision and she had nodded, mutely, still shocked by his reliance.

And just like that, the camp was packed up and they continued their journey.

Varys directed them towards a large group of people on the edge of Mareen.

* * *

The encampment they stood in front of was loud, the ground vibrated with the yells of men and women yelling for blood.

Sansa remembered these times.

When peasant men and women needed a distraction from hunger, cold and fear and they found it in blood and carnage.

She turned away from the sounds for a moment and breathed in a breath filled with sand and water.

How could she even hope to do this alone?

"Are you alright Sansa?"

Sansa turned and gave Varys a small tight-lipped smile.

"I am fine Varys, really," Sansa replied.

She was proud when her voice did not crack.

"Head up, shoulders back, you are a lady, the daughter of one of the greatest Lord's of the Land," her Septa seemed to whisper in her ear, "Do not let them see you fall."

Sansa pulled her head up, held her shoulders back and adopted a look of determination.

* * *

Jon thinks he saw a dragon beside him when he woke.

Wishful thinking.

* * *

 **And that's that as they say.**

 **Every week I will try to update - either Tuesday or Thursday afternoons. Tell me which one works best for you guys in the comments!**

 **I know I have said this a lot but thank you all SO much for all of your support!**

 **Please keep following and reviewing and reading.**

 **And now I am off to do AP Cal!**

 **I hope you all have a great night!**

 **XD**


	7. Chapter 6 - Binding

**I don't think you guys realize this but this story has reached 25 reviews, 112 favs, and a whopping 172 followers!**

 **That's crazy and amazing!**

 **I am so proud of this story and I am so excited to see it continue to grow!**

 **Thank you all (again!)**

 **I have decided to try and upload every Thursday - it's what works best for me and my schedule!**

 **And please continue to review and fav!**

* * *

 **Broken Things**

 **Chapter Six**

 **Binding**

* * *

 ** _Time of Binding_**

 _Now you are bound one to the other_  
 _With a tie not easy to break._  
 _Take the time of binding_  
 _Before the final vows are made_  
 _To learn what you need to know -_  
 _To grow in wisdom and love._  
 _That your marriage will be strong_  
 _That your love will last_  
 _In this life and beyond._

* * *

 _Sansa stared at her husband as she brushed her hair._

 _It had grown even longer after months in the wilderness - her hair now wrapped around her body and fell at her knees._

 _She'd been forced to keep it braided in order to avoid the endless dirt and leaves so when she slept she thought it only fair to take it out when she slept._

 _That had probably been a bad idea._

 _Tyrion watched her from his chair in front of the desk that sat against the wall._

 _She wondered if he knew she knew he was watching her._

 _They had had the option of sleeping in different rooms but she hadn't wanted to be alone._

 _She groaned in frustration when the brush seemed unable to get through a thick not in the center of her back._

 _"Would you - um, would you like help, m'lady?"_

 _Sansa smiled at him in relief and held out the brush,"Yes please, my lord."_

 _Tyrion cleared his throat and followed her to the bed where she sat down._

 _He climbed up beside her and began working on the knot._

 _Sansa felt her shoulders begin to slump as his hands moved through her hair and she relaxed almost immediately._

 _"Hmm," she groaned when he deftly soothed a slight pull with a finger._

 _A blush heated up her cheeks._

 _"Oh, I am so sorry," she stuttered._

 _Tyrion gave a small cough, "Quite alright"_

 _When the knot was finally gone he continued to stroke her hair with the brush, smiling when she melted in his hands._

 _They fell asleep like that, that night._

 _Tyrion's arm wrapped around her stomach, another in her hair._

 _Sansa slept soundlessly that night, nestled in his warm embrace, her head tucked under his chin._

* * *

 **Meereen**

 **A Few Weeks Later**

Sansa watched the man slice the head of another, blood pouring from the long gaping wound.

Another reared up behind the man slicing his back.

The man cowed in pain and fear before his opponent knocked him out with the butt of his sword. The crowd around them roared in pleasure as they watched the fight.

Strangely enough, she was not afraid of these men.

Of their roaring and their strikings.

She had seen the same bloodshed in King's Landing.

She had seen the same deaths and the same loss of life.

It only saddened her to realize that there was nowhere in the world that was without fear or deceit. That vengeance and blood would always be spilled without cause.

And then Tyrion emerged from the blackened room, his feet bound with chains.

* * *

The room was dark and wet.

He could hear the screams of dying men and remembered his time-fighting. And how much he detested it. Tyrion had never understood why men fought with swords instead of words.

Why die when living held endless promises.

It seems that fate wouldn't let him chose this time.

Tyrion felt a deep longing for his wife then.

He watched that damn man run from the pit then, towards the slaughter, and for some reason, Tyrion thought it was a great idea to follow after.

His chains were soon broken by a nearby guard after he heard the screams of men as they died.

He hid his face from the burning sun and felt the chill of the pit leave him as he stepped out into the open air. He was a creature of sunlight and wind, not water and cold.

Tyrion spotted Sansa instantly in the roaring crowd.

Maybe it was her striking red hair or her long swan-like neck.

But he knew why.

It was because when his wife was near, without fail, his eyes would be drawn to her.

This time, for the first time, he prayed that she would disappear.

That she would be gone.

She stared at him, her composure gone, her fist tight.

Fear in her eyes.

"What prize?" a woman seethed, her hair shockingly white against the dark color of the dias she sat on.

"Is this a lie you've made up?"

"It's true," he said, with some semblance of control.

"Who are you?"

The women, the young girl stared at him, in confusion, in desperation.

Tyrion prayed again, to empty gods with empty ears.

"I am the gift, he said, smiling, a pleasure to meet you, your Grace"

 _Please._

He met Sansa's eyes for, maybe, the last time.

"My name is Tyrion Lannister"

The girl-queen stared at him then, horror on her face.

Please god.

Sansa followed Tyrion, watching as he stood silently in front of the woman.

So this was Daenerys Stormborn.

She had heard about this woman the entire journey.

The Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt.

The said she was the Mother of Dragons, the Queen meant to rid the world of slavery and deception. People held her in high, almost inexcusable, esteem.

No one had ever talked of King Robert that way.

This woman was powerful and emitted a strange sense of serenity.

She knew her place, where she belonged.

Sansa was envious - if only for a moment.

She watched as Daenerys came forward, anger on her face.

"If you are really Tyrion Lannister then you should pay for your crimes against my house," Daenerys yelled, furiously.

She snapped her fingers and the executioner came forward - his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

"Wait!," Sansa yelled, running through the crowd, her clothing and hair being snatched by loose buttons and fingers.

Daenerys stared at her, confusion replacing anger,"And who are you?"

Sansa's throat tightened and she gestured around herself helplessly, millions of eyes stared at her.

"I-," Sansa started,"I am Sansa Stark of House Lannister"

Another murmur filled the crowd and she felt the gaze of her husband beside her.

She turned to look at him and she saw desperation and fear in Tyrion's eyes.

 _This is my fault,_ his eyes seemed to whisper, _You will die because of me._

Daenerys Targaryen seemed to have other plans for her though and Sansa felt that familiar feeling of claustrophobia as two men came forward and grabbed her arms.

Sansa shook, her head shaking.

" _Sansa!_ ," Tyrion yelled.

He felt ice fill his veins when his wife disappeared from view and another blindfold was placed across his face.

* * *

Tyrion stared at Daenerys his face filled with contempt.

"How can I know you are who you say you are?" she asked him again.

Tyrion huffed, irritated,"If only I wasn't"

 _Then Sansa might not be in danger_ , he thought.

"Then why should I not kill you?" she asked,"Why should I not kill your family for what it did to mine?"

Her eye flitted over to Sansa who sat motionless beside him, her eyes trained on some spot in the distance.

Tyrion took a step in front of his wife,"If you want revenge against my family, killing me or my wife is not the way to get it."

"Besides, I'm the greatest Lannister killer of all time," Tyrion said with a growing smile, "I killed my mother, Joanna Lannister in childbirth, I killed my father, Tywin Lannister years later."

"So I should welcome you into my service because you killed members of your own family?"

Tyrion smiled a crooked Lannister smile,"Service?"

"My lady we've only just met"

Daenerys did not find him funny.

"If you would rather return to the fighting pits with your "wife" then just say the word"

"My father spoke of you, numerous times in Winterfell," Sansa said, her voice soft, "Of a child who was moved from place to place, exchanged from person to person because of a name that she carried. He said many people thought to use the name for themselves."

"And then a few years later as I am sitting in King's Landing, the capital of Westeros, I hear the name of this child again. Only she has dragons, only she is ending slavery. Only she is building an army to rival that of any army in living memory."

"And then a few weeks ago I, and my husband, set out on a journey to find this girl who had somehow been able to become the last hope any of us had to, not only survive but to live in peace."

The room was quiet for a moment before Daenerys addressed Sansa for the first time.

"And why are you worth meeting, why should I listen to you?"

"Because you have no idea about the land you are going to be in, the strength of the Houses around you or the way they live," Tyrion said, "You are an outsider and even if you conquer Westeros with very large dragons is that how you will keep them in check? Either listen to me or be roasted alive, your father had the same strategy and he is dead. If you do the same with King's Landing this vicious cycle of Dragons and Wolves and Lions will only start again except for more people will suffer and die"

"So you want to advise me?," Daenerys asked.

"If that is what you need," Tyrion said with a shrug.

"Very well"

Daenerys gestured to Ser Jorah that stood behind Tyrion, "What do you think I should do with him?"

"I swore I would kill him if he ever returned."

Tyrion's eyes left her for a moment and he stared at Jorah.

"I know."

Daenerys' body shook,"Why should the people trust a Queen who cannot keep her promises?"

"Whoever it was you swore that vow to this is not the same person," Tyrion said after a moment.

"He is the most devoted man I have ever seen - he has told me countless times he will die for you, kill for you and yet he did betray you."

Sansa held onto Tyrion's shoulder.

They seemed to have a silent conversation before Tyrion turned back towards the Queen.

"Did he ever have a chance to tell you the truth?"

Daenerys' voice was filled with sadness,"Yes, many times, he only relinquished the information after he was forced to do so"

Tyrion turned to look at Ser Jorah again.

He was familiar with the look he had on his face.

Tyrion had it every time he looked at Sansa.

A face filled with love and sadness.

"A ruler who kills those who are devoted to her do not inspire devotion, Tyrion counseled, and you are going to need a lot of it."

"Westeros has changed since your father last ruled, my lady, and birthright, blood and, I fear, not even dragons, are enough to sustain the loyalty of the people," Sansa said, her voice hypnotic.

"They are tired of loyal-less kings and unforgiving queens," Tyrion said.

Tyrion met her eyes, complete honesty in his voice, "But if you are to ever rule, he cannot be by your side when you do."

A single tear slipped from Daenerys' eyes.

"Remove Ser Jorah from the city," she said, her voice strong.

And even though her face was filled with sadness she did not waver.

* * *

Sansa stood silently in the center of the large room.

The inside was dark and a large bed, filled with thick pillows and blankets sat in the middle of the room.

Intricate paintings revealed a once luscious countryside. Flowers spanned the walls.

The _Queen_ had placed them there only moments earlier. Sansa had not seen Varys or Bryden since she had stepped out of the crowd.

It was weird to be within walls again and not to see an endless sky above her.

"I did not know this would happen"

She turned and felt something hot stir in her stomach, that she thought was anger.

"I'm sorry, Sansa snipped, are you talking about the whorehouse or the near death experience?"

Tyrion winced, and gestured to the room,"I did not expect _this_ to happen, Sansa"

The energy, the ability, to fight with him was sapped out of her and she fell against the couch that sat in the center of the room.

"I know," she whispered.

Sansa heard him shuffle next to her and felt her body still when he laid a small, rough, gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

She turned to him and felt tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

"I don't really know," Sansa murmured.

Tyrion sat beside her and tensed when she buried her face in his chest.

Her voice was muffled,"When Varys told me you had been taken, I could barely breathe."

Tyrion began to stroke her hair, hoping to soothe her, "Nothing's going to happen to me Sansa"

She flew from the couch, "You can't promise that Tyrion"

"It's a bit too late for that," he replied, standing up.

She stared at him, tears still falling,"What if something does?"

He stopped then and took both her hands in his.

"Sansa if this- if this ends badly I want you to run, as far away as you can, and forget me"

Tyrion smiled when his wife shook her head defiantly.

"I could never leave you alone."

He grabbed her face and held her close.

"Whatever happens Sansa you have to thank of your safety first"

Tyrion smelled her perfume and her lotion because of how close they were. Her hair tickled his face and he closed his eyes.

He knew what he told her was right but a part of him mourned losing her.

She leaned forward, their forehands resting together.

"What will I do without you?"

Tyrion smiled,"What will _I_ do without _you_?"

Sansa grinned at him and they both shared a shaky laugh.

And she jumped when she felt his rough lips against hers and felt a different heat fill her then.

His mouth was warm, his lips were chapped and he tasted of sweat and sand.

* * *

 **I have decided to do some changes to the format of the story!**

 **Tyrion and Sansa's POV will be separate from those of Jon's or Cersei - yes, she will appear more often as the story continues and I will present more sequences in which Tyrion and Sansa have grown together!**

 **Thank you so much!**

 **Some songs that inspired this chapter  
 _"War of Hearts" by Ruelle_  
 _"War of Hearts" by Russel Taylor_  
 _"For You" by Angus and Julia Stone  
"Avenue" by Agnes Obel  
"Flightless Bird, American Mouth" by Iron & Wine_**

 **Please REVIEW**


	8. Chapter 7 - Dragons

**Another chapter for you all to enjoy! Shorter then the one before but at the moment the story is going to start focusing more on what is happening with Sansa and Tyrion and not so much with Jon and Cersei so I thought I'd give ya'll a sneak peak as to where their stories are headed.**

 **Some things to clear up: 1. I will be uploading every Thursday from now on - this will only change if I have to work or get super busy and in that case I'll upload on Wednesdays. 2. The dragon in the story is Rhaegal 3. I will be editing and changing some chapters - nothing major! But I have re-read some chapters and they honestly made my teeth cringe. 4. Changing the title to "Fire And Gold" - because why not!**

 **Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Broken Things**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Dragons**

 _It is one thing to read about dragons, another to see them._

* * *

 _Sansa woke to the sun, its face peeking through the curtains._

 _She curled closer to her pillow, content in the warmth it offered._

 _Her confusion increased, however, when the pillow rose and fell._

 _Sansa began to slowly move away, holding her breath._

 _Tyrion?_

 _Her husband slept peacefully beside her, his face serene._

 _Sansa smiled, blushing._

 _She didn't remember falling asleep._

 _He tensed a bit and, in an effort to soothe him, she ran a finger over his scarred face._

 _Tyrion relaxed into her palm, his breathing settling down._

" _Sansa," he whispered, a small hand wrapping around her fingers._

 _Her heart constricted and she smiled at his peacefulness._

" _I am here," she said, softly,"Tyrion"_

* * *

Jon stared up at the large creature in front of him.

He had been gaping at the beast for an hour now, his amazement so great he barely noticed the cold that surrounded him.

The dragon continued to stare at him, a toothy smirk on his face. He stretched out his wings as if flattered by Jon's amazement.

"What are you?" Jon whispered, awe in every word.

The dragon cocked his head at him as if to say, "You really have gone mad"

"You're a dragon," Jon said again, watching, transfixed on the dragon's head as his scales dipped and curved around his body.

The myth rolled its eyes.

"Where did you come from!?"

The dragon continued to stare at him.

"Ok, um, what is your name, then?"

The dragon leaned his head down, his neck long and slender.

"I am Rhaegal"

The words were clear and cold, like the ice on the windows of Winterfell.

"I am Jon, he whispered, I am Jon Snow."

The dragon nodded and nudged him with his snout, the movement almost caused Jon to fall over.

"And why are you sick, Jon Snow?," the dragon, Rhaegal, asked.

Jon shrugged, "I was stabbed."

The dragon reared back, fire in his eyes.

This time Jon did fell back, his head reeling.

Jon got to his feet, holding up his hands, "It was a long time ago, almost a month ago, I'm fine."

Rhaegal was angry, smoke floating from his mouth.

Then Jon placed a hand on his wing and he settled down, watching as the boy-man stared at him in awe and fear.

"Why were you stabbed?"

This time it was Jon who turned his head away from him.

Rhaegal rolled his eyes in displeasure.

"Reckless, boy"

Silence settled over both of them and Jon watched as smoke began to rise from the Wall.

The castle he now stayed in was crumbling and filled with snow and animals hiding from the weather but it was the perfect place to stay if he wanted to watch the Wall and yet stay hidden.

"Why are you here?" Jon asked, curiously.

Rhaegal stared at him and stretched his shoulders, Jon thought it looked almost like a shrug.

"What called _you_ here?"

"Sometimes we are called to unexpected places to do extraordinary things," Jon said, reciting what he had read in Lord Mormont's journal.

"Who told you that drivel?"

Jon snickered, laughing as he watched the proud creature shuffle his scales, haughtily.

* * *

"Amazing creatures, dragons are"

Jon blinked at the blinding light that shone from the water. The entire shore was shaded by a large tree that curved over the shore, it's limbs like fingers that covered the water.

He stared at the man in front of him.

His figure was perfectly outlined, his long white hair framed his face, his eyes purple and bright.

A cut across his cheek.

He could have only been a few years older than Jon.

"Is that the "something" you were talking about?" Jon asked, "Before?"

The man nodded, absentee, twisting a silver strip of fabric around his wrist before he stood up and began to pace in front of the tree.

Then the man sat next to Jon, rubbing his knees.

"Jon, he whispered, I need you to listen to me."

"Whatever you think you know is a lie, whatever you've been told is a story and whatever game they're playing, you've already won"

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Jon demanded.

"And who are you? And how did Rhaegal get sent to me? And where did he come from? What game?"

"I wish I had more time-"

And then the dream, if it was a dream, began to crack, like grass.

"What?"

The man grabbed Jon's face, his fingers cracking, the veins spreading up his arms.

"I am so sorry Jon"

Then the light became blinding and Jon watched as the scene shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

Cersei stared at the crumbling tower that had collapsed from the weight of the fire she had thrown. A sneer curved her mouth and she shook with unsuppressed laughter, her body shaking with joy, with pleasure.

"Oh, praise the Gods!" she screeched in fierce delight.

Her young, sweet, boy Tommen had been distracted, infatuated, with that whore Margarey, had bowed to her every whim and need, forgetting the mother that had so lovingly protected him.

Well, there went that obstacle.

She watched as another wall caved in.

Cersei screamed with delight.

There was a knock at the door.

But Cersei ignored it, content to watch the smoke curl into the sky, the ashes dusting the city.

And the smell of burning flesh that filled the air.

Another knock broke through her happiness.

"Who is it!" she yelled, half mad.

"Your grace," a serving girl whispered, her body trembling.

"Well, Cersei yelled, impatient, what is it!"

"The king"

* * *

 **Alright that's all for now!**

 **Please review, favorite, like, comment, share!**

 **If you see anything confusing please review and I'll try to answer them.**

 **One question I've gotten often is "Will this be a happy ending?"**

 **For some characters, yes, others, maybe.**

 **Obviously not for Tommen, cause he dead. Deader then a door nail.**

 **Have a great week!**


	9. Chapter 8 - Flowers

**READER: "Hey, you said you would upload every Thursday...it's been 3 months"**

 **ME: "No way!"**

 **All kidding aside though I really would like to apologize for the long hiatus I've took with this story - I know I get really irritated when authors leave stories unfinished so I would like to say sorry.**

 **Please read and review and I thank all of you for sticking with this story!**

 **\- Reara**

* * *

 ** _Fire & Gold_**

 **Chapter 8 - Flowers**

 _Do you know why the caged bird sings?_

 _Sansa walked calmly through the garden that encircled King's Landing, watching the sun blister the leaves of a large rose bush that had only just been planted._

 _As she walked through the garden, alone except for the woman that followed nearby, she tried to remain calm._

 _Her face void of any emotion._

 _She had to remain silent, still if she was going to make it through this place._

 _If she would get through it alive was another matter entirely._

 _Sansa followed the dirt path towards the edge of the large tower that led to the rest of the castle._

 _As she walked along the thick stone, she breathed in the smell of the flowers and of the rain that had just fallen._

 _The days after her forced marriage had been uneventful, and, for the most part, her life remained unchanged. Except for dinner._

 _Eating with her...husband. Was awkward and strange. They were different from the ruckus of her home, the silence of her room._

 _H_ _e had been welcoming, bringing her gifts and talking about the weather. Tyrion Lannister had never glared or yelled._

 _He never forced her to..do that._

 _The pinches, pokes and the prodding of the knights that surrounded her everyday had ceased and she was now referred to as Lady Sansa._

 _There was no more "traitor" or "whore."_

 _He had been very open, kind and courteous._

 _Sansa had been cold, unwelcoming and unforgiving._

 _Soon the gifts and the gentleness had stopped until they had settled into a strange peace._

 _She had a feeling though that no matter how rude, or unkind she was, he would never raise a hand against her._

 _Not as Joffrey would, and could, have._

* * *

Everything was perfect in this place of iron and sand.

The food was cooked to perfection, her favorite dessert appeared before her every day. Her clothing was soft and free. It was too hot for the thick wool of her home, for the courtly dresses that had been made for her as the wife of a Lannister.

Instead, she wore dresses that her Septa would have called indecent. Long slits on the sides, deep plunging necklines and always backless.

The first time Tyrion had seen her in them he had been speechless for hours, seeing the soft, white skin of her back made his eyes widen in shock.

But they had hardly been alone since the kiss, except for sleep, and a few exchanged words.

If Tyrion had been busy before with running King's Landing, he was about to be run into the grounds by Daenerys Targaryen.

There was always a slaver at the door, an innocent merchant at her feet.

Always someone to be sentenced or pardoned.

And Tyrion always had to be present.

For advice. For wisdom. For a kind word.

The situation angered Sansa.

It was weird to _want_ to be around Tyrion Lannister after months of awkwardness.

Sansa had married him purely to survive - because marrying Joffrey would have destroyed her - and because she had no choice anyway.

She had done the same thing when she had fled King's Landing, when she had joined him to find Daenerys.

Tyrion offered protection and survival, even against Joffrey.

But this was different.

Their kiss had been awkward - she had never kissed anyone willingly - but his rough lips against her, his small, warm hand around her waist had calmed her and made her body fill with unfamiliar heat.

* * *

 _Her heart began to race as they continued to kiss, her arms wrapping around his chest._

 _He was small, she had used to think he was child like._

 _There was nothing childlike about him now._

 _He coaxed her mouth open with a practiced motion and she gasped in surprise as their tongue met._

 _Sansa fully allowed Tyrion to take the lead._

 _Kisses with Joffrey had never been gentle. Joffrey would grab her by the head, kiss her, slap her and then throw her to the ground, yelling about how stupid or inexperienced she was._

 _Tyrion didn't make her feel stupid or inexperienced._

 _His touch was timid, almost shy, but his hand was gentle. They laid down then, his body covering hers._

 _She gasped in surprise when he laid a gentle hand over her breast._

 _He pulled back from her, smirking when she whined._

 _Sansa covered her mouth in shock, her cheeks red._

" _You are so very beautiful, my Sansa"_

 _She smiled at him, glad she had made him happy._

" _So are you," she whispered, shyly, "My Tyrion"_

* * *

The knock at the door from a squire, sent from Daenerys, had been like a needle popping a bubble.

She had been furious. Furious at the squire for coming, at Daenerys for sending him, at Tyrion for leaving.

At herself for being in such a compromising position.

But their later conversation had devastated her.

" _That kiss never should have happened Sansa"_

 _She stared at him for a moment, shocked._

" _Sansa, you need a chance to live with a man who can provide you with a stable future, someone you weren't forced to marry."_

" _I was always going to marry_ someone _," she had said, fist clenched._

 _Tyrion had gone to lay his hand on hers only to pull back at the last moment, "But now you have a chance to marry someone you love."_

 _She had left then and had gotten lost in the overwhelming expanse of the castle._

 _What did_ the Imp _know about love?, she thought bitterly._

* * *

Sansa pulled the thread through the embroidery fabric, watching the outline of a large white wolf take shape - its eyes bloody red against the wolf's body.

There was a stack of handkerchiefs and squares that poured from the basket near her feet. She had never been asked to go to a meeting with her husband and she had never wanted to go.

Sansa had completely ignored him for a least a week now.

Her mother would have called her childish.

"Arguments between a husband and wife, only cause strife, Sansa"

But her mother wasn't here now. And there was no one to explain how to talk to Tyrion again, how to explain herself.

There was no one to explain what had occurred between them.

She stabbed the fabric again, ignoring the sharp "twang" when the needle stabbed her finger.

A sharp knock interrupted her irritation and she stood, placing the fabric in her basket, and crossed her other hand over her injured one.

"Come in," she called.

The same familiar squire quickly opened the door - his movements hurried.

"Um, Lady Sansa needs - the Queen wish- commands your presence tonight Queen- Lady Sansa"

The squires' name was Zander and he was almost always running away or towards something.

He was even scared of Sansa, as strange as that was.

"Where?"

"In h-her dining hall, my lady"

"When?"

"N-now, my l-lady"

Sansa clenched her fist together before she nodded, "Lead the way"

* * *

The beginning of the dinner was quiet.

There was, of course, the clatter of silverware and eating food, but they did not speak to each other.

Daenerys had never threatened or criticized Sansa but there had always been an air of disapproval.

She gave the same look that Cersei had. The look that said "Sansa is useless."

"Your husband has been a great help the past few days, Lady Stark"

Sansa only nodded, ignoring how Daenerys had used her maiden name.

She was determined to get through this dinner as safely, and as quickly, as possible.

The musician near the table continued to play, his eyes cloudy.

Silence once again filled the room and Sansa allowed herself to enjoy the music.

She remembered this one, "Aileen the Beautiful"

The story went that Aileen was the daughter of a rich lord who fell in love with two men only for them to both die in a terrible war.

Saddened by her loss, and abandoned by her people, she had thrown herself into the sea only to be saved by one of the men who had never been dead in the first place.

"Do you... _enjoy_ your husband, Lady Stark"

The loud crash of her cup falling to the floor was the least of her worries.

It shattered against the warm stone.

Sansa pushed her chair back, her eyes filled with shock. And anger.

"What are you saying!?"

Daenerys took a small sip of her wine, clasped her long white fingers under her chin, and said, "Are you glad to be married to your husband, Lady Stark?"

She had been fully prepared to answer questions about her husband, to Tywin Lannister, to Cersei, even to Rob, when she thought there was still a chance to see him again but Daenerys' question, her accusation, made Sansas' blood cold.

The Dragon Queen did not so much as blink.

"I am married to him, Your Grace," Sansa replied, still standing, her hands flat on the table.

"But do you want to be?", Daenerys said, "Your marriage could still be annulled if you are still..?"

Sansa blushed, "I am, Your Grace, still a virgin"

Daenerys smiled, "In that case, would you like your marriage to Tyrion Lannister to be annulled?"

"Of course not, why would you ask something like that?"

The response shocked Sansa. She had prayed to every god she knew for a day like today - where she could be free - but the very idea repulsed her.

Sansa felt a small shiver up her back when Daenerys began to frown.

"I _will_ take Westeros, I _will_ reclaim the Iron Throne and I _will_ rule, but I _cannot_ rule if your husband's attention is _constantly_ focused on _you_."

"On _me_?"

They had hardly spoken a word to each other, even now, Tyrion was off somewhere doing something for Daenerys.

Tyrion's attention, focus, had been on Daenerys.

"I don't know who else he would go to such lengths for, Daenerys said, leaning back in her chair, as far as I can tell he's a cynical, sarcastic man but he'd be willing to go to the end of the Earth for you"

"What lengths?"

"Battle plans, warfare, his wisdom is often preceded by "Sansa's family is here" or "Sansa would probably not approve of this."

"So what would you have me do?," Sansa asked, beyond shocked.

"Get your husband to focus!"

"And remember that this is not a game and if all of us, including you, are not prepared to do whatever it takes, Cersei Lannister will die ruling our home"

"I know that"

Daenerys face clouded over and Sansa saw the woman that slaves had followed to their deaths.

She saw the woman who tamed Dragons.

* * *

 **Alright so that is the end of this chapter - I had another version saved to a file drive but the file became corrupted so I had to rewrite as much as I remembered.**

 **If any of you have any questions, comments please review.**

 **Thank you,**

 **Reara**


	10. Chapter 9 - Weak

**Hello!**

 **There will be an AN at the end so go ahead and dive in!**

 **\- Reara**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Weak

 _When you go looking for rescue you end up trapped in your own weakness._

 _Deb Calleti_

* * *

Sansa had never been to a council meeting before, no one had ever invited her.

But the morning after her meeting with Daenerys she rose early.

She did her usual stretches, wrapped her knife around her thigh - although if they were ever in any real danger she doubted she'd be able to reach it - and showed her new maid, Dora, how to create a lady's hairstyle, she pulled on the familiar blue dress that The Spider had made for her and placed a handkerchief in her sleeve.

The red eyes of a white wolf were just visible.

And she began a slow walk to the castle's main room.

There was already a flurry of activity. Men and women, highborn, already standing to the right or left side of the room talking in hushed voices. Ignoring the wondering gazes of the people around her, she moved to stand at the front of the right side, closest to the window.

Sansa smiled at everyone, her face calm, she had no reason to be hostile.

Yet.

A guard stood in front of the room entrance and beat against the floor with the bottom of his staff.

"Thump!" "Thump!"

"Announcing Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons."

"Thump!" "Thump!"

"Announcing Tyrion Lannister, Hand of The Queen, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock"

Sansa just remembered to curtsy and kept her head lowered as her husband and the Queen walked.

First One, then the Other.

Daenerys was an eye catching woman. From a distance her skin appeared youthful, soft and unmarred. It was only upclose that you saw the scars that wound around her neck, the scratches around her fingers and hands. And while Sansa hid hers with fabric Daenerys appeared perfectly calm with every mark exposed.

It was hard to believe they were the same age.

When her husband walked past her he nearly stopped but Sansa's eyes remained on Daenerys and his face remained filled with confusion as he stood by the Queen of Mereen.

Sansa watched the men and women around her, waiting for the curtsey, the bow.

Instead they simply nodded as if reaffirming their allegiance to Daenerys.

Daenerys finally sat then, her eye roaming over every member of her court. She had no problem staring at them with increased scrutiny.

And when her eyes landed on Sansa, Sansa tensed - her back ramrod straight.

The queen simply nodded before she began to speak.

"Please, bring forth the first of the day"

The door to the courtroom blew open, and the doors clattered against the walls.

Two soldiers, both dark in appearance, held an elderly man by the shoulders and pushed him into the center of the room. The one to the left, put the heel of his boot against the elderly mans back and pushed.

To force the to prisoner bow.

Everyone leaned away from the man, as if to affirm that they weren't bowing.

"Zuhayr Rede, you have been brought before Queen Daenerys, Ruler of Mereen to answer for your crimes. Of theft and brutality against the people of The Isle. How do you plead?"

Sansa tuned out the sniffling of the prisoner just a few inches from her and concentrated on her husband.

His gaze was calm and emotionless. He commanded respect as he spoke, his small stature overshadowed by the way, and where, he stood.

The prisoners hair was gray and matted and hung over his shoulders in thick clumps.

His nose was curved to the right, obviously broken, and his eyes were red and filled with tears.

"I-I am innocent Your Grace," he whispered, hands outstretched.

Pleading for his life.

"Bring out the Witness and the Accuser"

A door opened to the side and Sansa furrowed her brow. It had been made to look exactly like the wall.

A guard and a young woman entered.

The guard was tall in appearance, his face clear of hair. His mouth was curved into a perfect cupids bow and Sansa was amazed at his beauty.

But it was the woman next to him that grabbed Sansa's attention.

She was long and beautiful. Her neck was soft and her eyes were sweet. She seemed the picture of womanly grace and elegance. Her back straight, breast full.

"Azhara of the Isles, you stand here to give testimony against Zuhayr Rede"

"Yes, Lord Tyrion, he was the man who destroyed my home," the woman said, her voice as clear as a stream.

Azhara never wavered.

"Explain," Tyrion pressed, waving her on.

"That man destroyed my home, set fire to the house, the crops, the children," Azhara yelled, jabbing a finger at the lump of a man near Sansa's feet, "I _saw_ him!"

Her voice was victorious, her eyes alight with glee.

(It reminded Sansa of when Joffrey killed a kept lamb, or a restrained boar.)

Tyrion nodded as if she had only reaffirmed his point.

Sansa continued to watch, waiting for the next step. The man was guilty, of course.

And yet Tyrion made no move to tell the guards to grab the man, nor did he move to press the girl to speak.

He simply waited.

And then another door opened, closer to the throne.

And a child step through the door, two guards surrounding her.

If Sansa had turned to face Azhara she would have seen the snarl that curled the woman's lip and the hatred that filled her eyes.

"State your name"

Her eyes were red and her entire body shook. The girl was dark skinned with wide green eyes and a thick mane of dark red hair, she stood - back straight, yet her chin seemed slightly bent.

As if she was still getting used to having her head up.

The girls' head turned to Tyrion as if in shock before she began to speak.

"Y-yes!", the girl breathed, before clearing her throat, "Yes Lord Tyrion"

 _Once again, with_ feeling, Septa Mordane whispered in her ear.

"Do you recognize any of the people here?"

"Yes, m-my lord," the girl murmured.

"Who?"

Sighing, the girl slowly pointed her finger.

At Azhara.

"That woman," the girl said, "Her name is Zara, and she was with Zuhayr Rede when he attacked my home."

Sansa's attention was drawn back to the newly accused and she watched as the guard that had been "protecting" her began to restrain her.

"She was the one who began the burnings of the children and women inside the healer's tent. She threw the little ones into the sea and laughed when the mother's ran after them, only for the women to die from arrows and swor-"

The woman, Zara, began to scream, anger in her throat.

"I'll _kill_ you!," she screamed, clawing at the soldier who made no noise, " _Every_ single one of you _disgusting_ Kadians will _die_ by _my_ hand!"

Zara began to punch and spit, her knees jerking and kicking against the soldier who bound her.

"I _swear_!," Zara screamed, "I'll _burn_ you, I'll _drown_ you, I'll _starve_ you, by the time _I'm_ _done you'll wish you had died_!"

The girl began to cry, her entire body shaking in fear.

Sansa acted on instinct when she saw the little girl's hands reaching for air.

She slowly walked to the child and pulled her to her chest, burying the girl's face in her breast. The girl continued to gasp for air though and could not remain calm, even as she buried her body into Sansa's.

"Get her out of here!," Tyrion said, slapping the air.

The screaming Zara was pulled from the room, the elderly man had, once again, collapsed on the floor in all the commotion.

Sansa picked the child up and ignored the wondering looks of the once undisturbed throne room.

Sansa placed the bundle of a girl in the arms of the large, grey haired woman that was behind the door, probably her grandmother, and felt herself choke at the scene.

That girl was one of the most unluckiest lucky person she had ever seen.

And for the first time, in a while, she thought about her mom.

Her lovely, kind, tradition bound mother.

Whose throat had been slit at a wedding that never should have happened, during a war that never should have destroyed her life.

Sansa took a deep breathe and shook her head.

"She had a bit of a run in with that woman"

The grandmother stared at her with fear, and relief.

The grandmother replied, "T-thank you, ma-madame, she's a prec-precious one"

Sansa nodded, "She is"

"Sansa!"

She turned away from the grandmother and turned to face her husband.

* * *

"I can't believe you went there, much less interfered," Tyrion continued to pass on the floor in front of her, angry and frustrated.

"But I-"

"Why would you even consider going there?"

"I was just-"

"You could have been hurt, or worse, killed!"

"That's-"

"Why Sansa!", he yelled.

His chest rose and fell, his hands shook. Sansa watched him for a moment, hoping that he would calm down.

"Tyrion"

He refused to look at her, and, for a moment, she thought she was seeing her fussy brother.

"Tyrion," she said more firmly.

Tyrion finally turned and looked at her his eyes wide.

She stared at him for a moment, and then smiled.

He was afraid. But not that her getting hurt would destroy his reputation or that something bad would cause him to be a laughstock but that she, her person, would be hurt.

Tyrion stared at her and then sighed, rubbing a small, rough hand over his face.

"I was fine Tyrion, really,"

He reached out then a placed his hand over hers, and let out a small sigh.

"Just, just be careful Sansa"

Sansa nodded and stroked his cheek with her thumb.

There was a stuttering knock at the door then and Sansas' finger froze almost instantly. It was almost funny to see Tyrion close his eyes, his face filled with frustration.

The door swung open and Zander, the squire, came through, his face red and filled with slight terror.

"Your uh, there is- there is a uh"

Zander simply pointed at the door.

"Yes, that is a very nice door, Zander, thank you for sharing, but what exactly did you need"

Sansa pressed her thumb rather firmly into Tyrion's cheek.

"There's s-someone here, my lord"

Tyrion sighed and kissed Sansas' head before turning to leave.

"Let's not keep them waiting then"

Zander shook his head, squeezing his hands.

"I-it's not for you, m-my lord, i-it's a s-sword master for Lady S-sansa"

* * *

 **AN:/ Thank you all so much for your patience. A lot of things have happened in the past few months that have kept me from being able to update but, a few of them are,**

 **1.) I just entered my first official year of college, only to find out I can graduate in a year and a half after this semester.**

 **2.) I am double majoring (History & English) both with a Law Track **

**3.) Without being too political I've been volunteering a lot of time trying to turn Texas Blue**

 **4.) I have been trying to find an internship but since I've only 18 not a lot of people take me seriously (two of them asked me if I was "really ready" for this)**

 ***insert eye roll here)**

 **But since things have started to die down and I've gotten into the swings of all of my classes and my volunteering I will be (hopefully) updating more!**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	11. Chapter 10 - Winter

**Hi, there will be an AN right after so enjoy!**

 ***The Cersei moment at the end is R-Rated so be on the look out for that!**

* * *

 **Fire And Gold**

 **Chapter 10 - Winter**

 _Winter is coming_

* * *

He stood in front of her, his sword pointing at the ground.

Her breath was fast, her arms heavy, bruises across her back and legs.

She was glad Bryden was back.

It was the morning after the council meeting and Bryden had had no problem slapping the door to her room so early for training.

She was excited to get back at it, at first.

Bryden had forced her to run through the city, always a few steps ahead,

It had irritated her when he hadn't even broken a sweat, his face calm and steady, even under the wondering looks of the people of Mereen.

Then it was back to the basics because, apparently, "she was just as useless now as she was before."

She dived, forced out of her thoughts, her sword pointed straight.

Only to fall on her face when the sword master slipped to the side, his sword not even raised.

"You're only becoming more brash Sansa!," he yelled slapping her back leg with the back of his sword.

She glared at him and rubbed the spot he had hit – certain it would bruise.

"You're becoming more annoying!" she yelled back, slashing her sword.

She didn't even hit him.

He only slipped out of her sword's path his eyes looking up at the sky in irritation.

She landed on her butt again, her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly the icy cold point of a soul was pressed against her throat and, even in the bright heat of the afternoon, Sansas' body grew cold.

"If it had been a real battle, Sansa, you would be dead"

Sansa limped away from the training yard, her knees and arms throbbing in pain.

She cursed Bryden, hissing a few insults about his mother as well, as the pain shot through her back.

"It's nice to see your vocabulary has increased Sansa, although I would have thought that words like those would be a bit too much for a lady of the court"

Sansa turned, her eyes wide.

She curtsied, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her feet tingled in disapproval.

"I apologize Your Grace," she whispered, her knees weak.

Daenerys stared at the girl before her before she smiled.

There was something about this child, this baby woman, that almost made Daenerys feel like a child again.

"Would you like to accompany me to lunch, Sansa?," she found herself asking, holding out her arm, "I'm sure you could tell me all about this Brynden who is the "son of a whore."

Sansa blushed, eyes wide in horror.

But she did take Daenery's arm and did not object to being dragged to somewhere with food and water.

* * *

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his head throbbing from the pain of the day. But it was a welcome pain. Today he had helped refund and revise the hierarchy of the city. His plan would call for three men, of Daenery's choosing, of course, to look after the city until, and this is where the plan got tricky, one of Daenery's sons, or daughters, were able to take control.

He had assumed that the Dragon Queen was fertile - it had never occurred to him that she wasn't.

But the whisperings of a girl in a less then civilized establishment had told him otherwise.

That could prove problematic to, and for, the lords and ladies of Westeros.

He shook the thought from his mind.

"You have to first build an alliance with someone before you begin building plans for it"

The whisper of his fathers' advice was still slithering through Tyrion's ear.

And the bastard was dead.

He gulped the ale down his throat, relishing in the burn.

Anyone who knew his thoughts would probably assume it was guilt.

Far from it.

Tyrion was already drunk on the happiness of the idea of his father buried, cold and alone, beneath the ground.

It was more the idea that he had taken a life in the first place.

The game of thrones was one thing, death was something else entirely.

Even if his family had muddled the definition over the recent years.

His family.

He took another drag of ale, tensing at the shiver of the drink.

His golden brother Jamie with eyes the color of the lion on his chest who loved laying down with dogs.

And his bitch of a sister, who, if you believed every rumor that fluttered through the whore houses, hadn't stopped her scandalous behavior even after the death of all of her children.

And his father, oh, his father. A more terrible man never lived. At least when Aegon killed someone he did it plainly. He was honest in his hatred and Tyrion had to give him props for that. Tywin Lannister would stab anyone, man, woman, child for power and kiss their mothers later.

And his mother. The woman Tyrion never knew. Who smiled at everyone, who loved everyone. Except for Tyrion himself, according to Cersei. He had never dreamed about her so often. And yet since he had bound himself to the last surviving dragon, Daenerys, he couldn't seem to forget her.

And then his wife.

Sansa.

Sansa Stark his kind, steady, beautiful child bride. With wide doe eyes that sparkled under the yellow sun. Hair that burned fiery red, so different from the brown and blonde-haired beauties he was used to. And her skin. As soft as milk, as sweet as sin. But it was the recent changes that stirred the fire in his stomach.

The callouses that had formed on the palms of her hands. The darker skin around her face and neck and the body that had turned from slender and soft to lethal and lean.

He stared at the ale on top of his desk and moved it away – out of sight.

His wife.

He didn't know if he loved her.

Not really.

But her very presence made him squirm.

He thought back to the council meeting only a few days ago. And when he had seen her, so near the scheming men and women of Daenery's court he had been angry.

Really, trembling, angry.

He had sworn that whatever happened, whatever happened to him, Sansa would never have to stand in a room surrounded by enemies ever again.

And yet his brave wife had seemed to ignore his unspoken wishes and, dressed in the styles of a true courtly woman from Westeros, and taken her place as the wife of the second most powerful person in the room.

And he thought about her defiant stare, the gentle, proud way she had stood in that nest full of vipers, ignoring his random looks of shock and anger.

And he smiled.

The Sansa from a month ago would never have done that and so he had tried (unsuccessfully) to ignore her.

And afterward, when they were alone, oh, how he had wanted her.

He saw it now her eyes dilatating as they stared intensely at each other.

The energy of the closeness crackling in the room.

Oh, how he wanted her.

Sighing, he took another long swallow of the leftover ale in his cup and began the slow, slow, slow climb towards the room he shared with his wife, hoping she would be asleep so she wouldn't see the twisted dreams in his heart.

"I want her," he whispered to himself.

The hallway accepted the admission with open arms. It's cold stones caressing the heat of his passionate words.

I want her.

* * *

The problem with having a husband like Tyrion Lannister was that he had a schedule.

Wake up every morning, ungodly early, work, breakfast, work, work, lunch, work, work, work, bread and ale, work, then come to bed very, very, very late.

So, Sansa had a hard time catching him.

She was always asleep because she had spent the night waiting for his to get up, he always changed where he worked, hoping between four or five offices.

But tonight, was going to be different.

The long white bone china tub had been dragged out to sit in front of the roaring fire that Daphne had set up. The window opened - just enough, to reassure her husband that she was only doing this because of the cold. And violets, roses, lilies and an old island flower filled the tub.

Daphne, clever girl, had braided Sansa's hair the night before so that her long red hair held soft, bouncing curls, a bit of perfume was sprayed on her neck, wrist and ankles. And a bathrobe, which was really just a slip of a garment, lay on the back of a chair.

Daenerys would have been proud.

Especially since she had been the one to set it up.

The hours after the council meeting had seen a new relationship form between her and the Queen of Dragons.

Her simple act had apparently softened the Queens heart and they had become companions.

Both were too wary of other people to call it friendship.

But Sansa felt she could trust the woman who had called her useless – if only because Sansa believed Daenerys would not allow harm to come to Tyrion.

Sansa thought back to the afternoon before last when Daenerys had told her about..intercourse between a man and husband.

" _It is an amazing act Sansa, if you're doing it with the right person."_

" _You…you mean, Sansa drew in a deep breath, intercourse"_

 _The last word had been barely more than a faint whisper._

 _Sansa face turned red when Daenerys had laughed, her hand covering her mouth._

 _She grew offended then – huffing at the queen when she continued to giggle._

" _Forgive me Sansa I don't me to laugh at you, truly," The Queen said patting her arm._

" _We were all virgins once," she said with a wink._

 _Sansa rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat that was growing on her face, and pretended to occupy herself with the overflow of cheese and wine that had recently been brought in._

" _Now, do you even know what, Daenerys paused for a second - unsure if Sansa was ready for the word "sex" …intercourse is?"_

 _Sansa nodded, telling Daenerys about how her mom had blushed through a sort of vague explanation of how boys and girls were different._

 _Daenerys nodded, smiling, "Yeah, we're different alright"_

Sansa blushed as she thought about the rest of their conversation and how Daenerys had developed a hazy look over her eyes.

And how Daenerys had eventually come up with a plan to see if Tyrion's desire for her was more then just out of obligation.

Which is how she ended up naked, waiting to get into the tub.

She finally decided to slip her robe off, the fabric slipping off her chest.

And then the door opened.

* * *

Jon stood at the edge of the wall, watching the smoke curl through the sky, of old chimneys.

He watched his friends, could someone still be your friends if they murdered you?

And sighed.

Rhaegal leaned against the human, hoping to warm his against the cold.

"Are you alright human?"

Jon turned and nodded, "Yeah"

"So what do we do since you won't allow me to cast fire over them?"

Jon rolled his eyes.

Rhaegal had a habit of asking to murder the Knights Watch.

He had options, he knew it.

But he had no desire to act on any of them.

The cold wind began to dance in a relentless furry, twisting and bending the limbs of dying trees.

" _Winter is coming_ "

"Rhaegal"

"Yes, little human," the beast muttered, rolling his scales against the cold.

Suddenly the beast slapped his tail forward pushing Jon behind him, his teeth bared, fire burning his throat.

Jon pushed himself out of the snow, coming to Rhaegal side – sword drawn.

The figure in front of Jon was not human, but the bones of one. It's body, bones, were covered in ice and snow and his mouth made an inhuman sound.

"What is that?" Rhaegal growled.

The figure made his scales prickle and, for the first time in his life, the mighty dragon knew what real fear felt like.

Rhaegal pulled the fire in his belly and hissed at the creature, burning it alive.

The being shivered and shook before finally falling, turning to ask.

"White Walkers," Jon whispered.

He walked to the edge of the wall, where his new home ended and saw the snow blow even more – the wind beating against the walls foundation as if demanding to go through.

* * *

Cersei grasped the head of the man below her, her other hand clawing at the pillow beneath her head.

She bucked up, complete, allowing herself to rest for just a moment before she kick the man off of her bed.

Rolling her eyes as he began to fist his cock.

She didn't even remember who this one was but she was eager for him to get out of her room.

Snapping her fingers Cersei watched as her two guards began to pull, and push, the man out of her chambers his face filled with shock and disappointment.

Sighing she sat up, ignoring the eyes of a wondering guard and moved to her desk, rereading the long letter from lord who had pledge their allegiance.

And threw them all in the fire.

The throne was hers now, who cared whether or not some little lordling gave her his "promise of peace and loyalty"

She was the Queen of Westeros, the ruler of every house and the heir to a throne that had held Conquerors.

And every man and woman would bow to her or feel the wrath of her armies and soldiers.

Little Lords are no match for Swords.

* * *

 **I hope you all had an amazing one...two..almost three months!**

 **So a lot has been happening personally but I wanted to thank you all for still reading, still commenting, still liking this story!**

 **We are (finally) starting to see some Jon and Cersei action (not sex so keep your mind out of the gutter) and we're moving closer to where Daenerys finally goes to Westeros and Jon, back to Winterfell.**

 **There will be some character are kept dead (like I'm def. killing that one guy) and others who will still be alive (that one for sure!) but the rest, at the moment is up in the air, specifically on one of the characters that everyone really liked but whose daughters/wife were very annoying.**

 ****** ** **I've also gotten messages from people about other people writing copying or writing ideas or parts of my story I am just asking that you all respect my ideas. I would never steal someone else's work so I ask that you do the same!  
****

 ** *****Also the rating of this story is about to change from T to R! And there will be a note on that on my profile!****

 **I hope you all have a great day!**

 **\- Reara**


	12. Chapter 11 - Wind

**Hey! AN at the end - thank you so much reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 -** **Wind**

 _Oh, how the wind blows!_

* * *

 _Tyrion's POV_

He was not running away.

He wasn't.

It was just a hasty retreat because the sight of his wife naked, _soft, sweet, wet_ had almost caused him to suffocate.

So it wasn't running away.

"Just great strategy," he reassured himself.

"Yeah, just great," Tyrion groaned.

He thought about the image of his wife encased in water and soft flowers, her hair long and red and just covering the curve of her breast-

Tyrion shook his head and hastily continued the very, very long walk through the long corridor.

His heart was thundering in his chest – his head pounding.

Sansa, with wide green eyes, had stared at him innocently as she stroked her hands over her breast. He still saw the soft curves of her knees, the warm fire of her hair.

He felt something in him move then. His heart beating rapidly in his chest.

It was strange to walk away from something, someone, that so obviously wanted him.

Tyrion Lannister had had his whores – he'd met the most beautiful women and had found paradise in them all. But they wanted the gold in his pockets more than the pleasure of his company. And for a while, a long, long while, that had been enough.

But if Sansas' face was anything to go by – she wanted him, more then his gold.

" _Impossible,"_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father whispered.

He shook the thoughts away and continued the long walk towards his office, vaguely remembering the pillow that lay on the couch there.

It wouldn't be the first time he had slept there to avoid his wife.

* * *

 _Sansa's POV_

Sansa sat at the edge of the bed, her knees pulled firmly to her chest.

That seemed to have been her answer.

She felt something in her break and began to sob.

The roaring heat of the fire had settled to mere embers as it lost the fight against the cold night wind.

Eventually, Sansa fell asleep.

And dreamed of Joffrey and the trial.

* * *

 _The Purple Wedding_

 _Sansa's POV_

 _At the beginning of the wedding, she had been almost miserable but as the day wore on and her husband joked and mocked Joffrey outright Sansa had settled into the wedding feast. Tyrion had held her hand only for a moment, to soothe her nerves, and had pulled his course hand back almost a moment later._

 _She hid her smile behind a mask of fear as Tyrion began to mock Joffrey again, but felt the familiar iciness of fear as Joffrey stepped ever near and poured wine down his uncle's back._

 _Sansa thanked Margaery a thousand times as she lured Joffrey away and Sansa tapped Tyrions' arm discreetly under the table cloth, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he tapped back as if to assure her that he was alright._

 _Sansa began to fear again though when Joffrey turned to hold out his cup, smiling as he told Tyrion that he would be his cupbearer._

 _Tyrion slid a finger over the back of her hand as he stood._

 _As her husband slipped around the table Sansa met Joffrey's eyes, seeing no mercy there._

 _The king dropped the goblet to the ground and Sansa watched as it rolled under the table, just near her feet._

 _Without thinking she grasped the goblets' base and pulled it up, the disgustingly over-embellished goblet leaving imprints from the diamonds and rubies that surrounded it._

 _She held it out to Tyrion, trying to look brave._

* * *

 _The Purple Wedding_

 _Tyrion's POV_

As Tyrion slept, he too dreamed of that day.

 _He wished he could soothe the fear in her eyes. A thick row of diamonds encased her neck, and they glittered in the sun._

 _There was danger here but he knew he had no way of keeping her from it._

 _Not while they were still in King's Landing._

 _Tyrion fixed his face, welcoming the sarcasm that had always protected him so very well._

 _A part of him mused on what they would do afterward – after a morning of fear and apprehension, he was going to send his wife lemon cakes and a bit of sweet wine and a soft moonflower. To let her know that there was still a spot of yellow in the world his young wife thought was gray._

 _And as he turned to face Joffrey he mused on a day that would not come._

* * *

 _The Purple Wedding_

 _Sansa's POV_

 _Sansa slipped back into her seat, ignoring the wondering looks of the court._

 _"_ _Fill it," Joffrey demanded, his voice weirdly clipped and calm._

 _Tyrion gave his sister a smirk and filled the cup, holding it out to his nephew when the red liquid touched the brim._

 _"_ _Kneel"_

 _Tyrion only held the cup out – ignoring the command._

 _"_ _I said, Joffrey screamed irritably, Kneel!"_

 _"_ _Oh, look the pie!" Margaery yelled – the relief clear in her voice._

 _Sansa breathed a sigh of relief that was silent to the happy crowd, she welcomed Tyrion to the other side of the table, unknowingly smiling a real smile, when he tapped her wrist as if to say,_

 _"_ _I told you it would all work out fine."_

 _Joffrey swung the sword and the crowd erupted in awed cheers as the doves flew to the sky – two pigeons left behind, their heads gone._

 _"_ _Can we leave now?" she whispered to Tyrion._

 _She couldn't help but think something would go wrong and was relieved when Tyrion took her hand in his._

 _"_ _Let's find out"_

 _Sansa stood as Tyrion pulled her chair out and she almost thought they had gotten away when Joffrey called, "Uncle"_

 _Tyrion met his nephew's eyes._

 _"_ _Where are you going – you're my cupbearer, remember?"_

 _"_ _I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace"_

 _Joffrey shook his head, stabbing the piece of pie, "Oh, no, no, no, Uncle, you're perfect just the way you are!"_

 _Tyrion turned to Sansa and gave her a gentle smile, "Go on, My Lady"_

 _Sansa stared back at Joffrey and_ _Margaery_ _– knowing she should go but fearing what would happen if she did._

 _Sansa shook her head and took her seat, sipping the spiced wine that had been poured._

 _"_ _Serve me my wine!"_

 _Tyrion gave Sansa a parting glance and she tried to give him a soft smile but even she knew it came out like a grimace._

 _"_ _Hurry up, Joffrey demanded, this pie is dry!"_

 _Tyrion gave the king his wine and returned to his spot, just in front of Sansa._

 _"_ _Your Grace, if I may -"_

 _"_ _No, he coughed, hacking, his throat retching, you'll stay!"_

 _Then he began to cough violently his arms reaching, eyes twitching._

 _"_ _Oh my god, he's choking,"_ _Margaery_ _yelled, grasping Joffrey's arms._

 _"_ _Someone help him!"_

 _"_ Idiots, _help your king!"_

 _"_ _The king!"_

 _And then a man tugged at her arm, his nails pulling at the sleeves of her dress._

 _"_ _If you want to live we have to leave now!"_

 _She stared back at Tyrion, watching as he picked up that golden chalice._

 _"_ _Come with me if you want to live!"_

 _Sansa had never thought of her husband as small – even when they had married and she had worried over his height some part of her knew that his stature hid a man filled with bravery and intelligence._

 _But now, with the gaze of every man and woman on him he looked so tiny._

 _Sansa wretched her hand away from the man and flew down the steps, falling beside Tyrion pulling on him, her fingers begging him to run._

 _"_ _Arrest them!"_

 _"_ _Arrest them – they killed the king!"_

* * *

 _Meereen_

 _Sansa's POV_

Sansa flew awake then, her hand closing around the knife she had planted under her pillow.

But her room was empty – except for a large, black raven.

The bird cawed at her, his head twitching back and forth.

And then he flew to the open window before flying out, his wings catching the arms of the wind.

Sansa threw herself back on her bed, slipping the knife back under her pillow.

In the morning she was sure she had dreamed it.

One, because there were no ravens of that kind in Meeren and second, she was pretty sure it had had a third eye.

* * *

 _The Wall_

 _Davos' POV_

Davos' turned his head away from the cold and snow and he winced at the stings of ice. If it wasn't for his thick outer coats and pants, that he had grabbed before this damned journey to the Wall, he doubted he would have survived the days here.

The Wall loomed above the cold snow, a damning viewpoint against the white background. He stopped for a moment, staring at the wall. It's crumbling had only increased as the days went on. Now, men lined holes in the wall, some sleeping or drinking.

Jon Snow had disappeared, and Davos feared for the young man.

Melissandre still lurked around Castle Black – her red robes a startling contrast against the pale white snow.

It had been less than a month since Jon Snow, Commander of the Night's Watch, had died and then came back to life.

He thought about the day's past events – members of the Night's Watch stood ready against the looming winter but if the limited information he had been given was true he doubted that any number of criminals or low born children would do the job.

"Ser Davos?"

He turned around – welcoming the leader of the Knights Watch only to fall on his backside in disbelief.

Davos was a rational being – he believed that wholeheartedly. There was nothing that couldn't be explained.

But in just a few moments he was trying to come to terms with the fact that not everything had a rational explanation.

Especially, a man who used to be dead on the back of a dragon.

* * *

 _Dorne_

 _Oberyn's POV_

The wind flew over the city of Dorne – caressing every person and every building. The sun high above the clouds.

And Oberyn Martell stood quietly on the balcony of his home.

His time in King's Landing had turned out to be a waste of time.

The night before the duel was to have taken place Tywin Lannister was found dead, along with the whore, Shae, and Tyrion Lannister was gone.

His choices were limited now.

"Are you still thinking about the wedding?"

Oberyn turned and gave a slick smile to the woman behind him.

Myriah Martell had slipped on a gold robe before stepping out from their bed.

His wife truly was beautiful.

With soft, narrow green eyes and the gentle curl of night, black hair foreigners never would have guessed that this was the "King of Scorpions."

She walked towards him, her long legs, sadly, hidden from view.

"I should have killed them while I had the chance."

His voice was eerily calm and, if they hadn't been married for years, it would have shocked her how unnerved he was when he talked of death.

"That would have been an interesting conversation to have with Doran," she mused, placing her hands on his chest.

He sighed and placed his forehead in her hair.

"You will have another chance Oberyn, be patient, love"

He sighed and squeezed his wife tighter in his arms – hoping to be soothed by her embrace.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **I hoped some of that cleared up who was going to be alive/dead in this story.**

 **So that no one gets confused let me just say where this is headed.**

 **Sansa/Tyrion/Daenerys will go back to Westeros, Jon will head for Winterfell (if he makes it though is uncertain), Bran is alive (and is going to be the Three-Eyed Raven (but if he's going back to Winterfell who knows), Cersei is coo-coo (her death is uncertain) and I love Oberyn and Davos so of course, they're in the story but their survival is uncertain. I hate Ellaria with a passion so she's going to be a bit of a villain.**

 **I hope that clears up some confusion!**

 **Thank you all so much for reading and I can't believe how many people read this story.**

 **{Btw I have a lot of readers in Canada that's pretty cool!}**


	13. Chapter 12 - Move

**Alright guys so I know this has been a long time coming but, to put it simply, two people that are very close to me passed away literally a week after I posted the last chapter and I almost left school because of it and I lost my job. I'm honestly just writing this in an airport terminal so I can have something out for you guys and because I'm in a layover headed to Dublin. Thank you so much for your comments and private messages – I hope you enjoy this new chapter. And thank you for all the favorites and follows, I hope you all know how much this means to me and that your continued support and honesty is what inspires me to write.**

 **Enjoy the chapter**

* * *

 _Chapter 12_

 _Move_

 _"He's more myself then I am. Whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same."_

* * *

Daenerys stared after Naharis watching as the door fell closed, the sound a signal that their relationship was truly over.

She turned and slipped into the empty throne room where Tyrion was waiting.

"How did he take it?"

"No tears"

"I know it was hard for you, you turned away a man you truly loved because he could have been a liability," Tyrion took a strong gulp of the wine in his goblet.

"But, he sighed, if it's any consolation self-sacrifice is an important trait in any real ruler."

"It's not," she whispered.

"I suppose not"

They were quiet for a moment.

"I'm terrible at consoling," Tyrion finally said.

"Yes, Daenerys said, words clipped, you really are"

Tyrion glanced at her at the corner of her eyes and saw the anger there.

The anger directed at him.

"Then how about this, you're finally doing it, you have your dragons, your army, your chance to play in the great game – with other families who are ready to play it with, or against, you"

Daenerys turned to him and replied, "Do you know why I'm sad?"

He said nothing.

"It's because I turned away from a man that I thought I cared for only to realize that I was simply impatient to get on with it."

Daenerys stood.

"That's not how she feels about you, you know. Regardless of how much you push her away, she'll always be a step behind you. She loves you a lot Tyrion and if you're not careful you'll lose her."

Tyrion poured another glass, swirling the red liquid.

It made no since to drink it anymore.

Not when his choices from now on would require a clear head.

"Now, since you have utterly failed to consul me, and I am in the business of asking for the impossible, I want something of you – your council."

He stood, dusting his pants.

The future was happening, history in the making.

If he was lucky, he would survive to see himself back in Westeros – Sansa at his side.

" _Well_ , he thought, _I've never been one to count on luck_ "

Tyrion kneeled, his head bowed.

"It's yours, he replied, now and forever!"

"Good – because I've already made something for you"

He stiffened at the familiar, and yet unfamiliar, signal as she clipped it on his jacket.

"Tyrion Lannister, I name you Hand of the Queen"

He remained kneeled, his head lowered.

And the sun finally eclipsed the long hills of the island – it's fingers stretching over the distance of the shore.

* * *

Daenerys wiped the tears from her cheeks.

She didn't love Naharis.

Not really.

Not how it counted.

But it had just occurred to her that if she failed, if, somehow, everyone but her died she would be alone again.

And this time - there would be no army, or dragons, to save her.

There was a timid knock to her bedroom door and she brushed new tears away and stood.

"Come in"

Sansa.

The changes in Sansa had been alarming, yet pleasing, over the recent weeks.

Her hair, once always primed and proper, was now wild and free around her shoulders. Her eyes - were stone and fire. Her skin had darkened in the training ground with the mysterious swordsman and her hands had grown course and rough.

"My lady," she whispered, giving a quick curtsy.

Some things never changed.

"I will be coming with you my lady - and I hope I have your support"

Daenerys started and then gave her a small smile, "I would expect nothing less"

Sansa's smile was bright and she gave a small laugh of happiness, "Thank you my lady"

"You may go," Daenerys said, gesturing towards the door.

Sansa nodded, turned, and then stopped.

"My lady, she hesitantly said, are you alright?"

Daenerys nodded, slightly confused, "Of course"

"It's just...you're crying"

* * *

"Men are stupid," Daenerys yelled.

They were on her bed now, surrounded by nuts, and fruits, and some kind of yellow paste that smelled strongly of garlic and lemon, that burned their tongue and made Sansa sniffle.

They were both drunk.

"True," Sansa murmured, tossing a grape in her mouth, looking up at the naked men and women on the ceiling of Daenerys bed.

The grape bounced off her cheek and fell to the floor.

She wondered how a woman's breast could be so large and was slightly intimidated.

Daenerys took a fistful of nuts and turned to Sansa, "We should send him a letter"

"Dear Tyrion, you idiot, Lannister"

"W-wait, Sansa groaned, getting up to grab a piece of paper and a quill; before returning to plop on the large bed, y-you have to star-art over!"

"Men are stupid," Daenerys giggled.

Sansa laughed, snorting into her wine goblet, as she wrote.

"True"

They broke off into loud screeching laughter, that bounced off of stone and warmed their bodies.

Their laughter eventually died down and they both fell away - problems solved or at least off of their minds.

Sansa stood on the edge of the balcony that was outside her bedroom window. The ledge was thick and the stone was bleached white from the sun. She loved the smell of Mereen, the fire and spice that flirted through the city - riding on the sea salt wind.

* * *

They had given her a simple room draped in silk.

But she loved it.

Because it was hers.

It was her home.

She had heard her own whispers throughout Mereen.

Most referred to her as "The Lady" and it was strange to realize she wasn't really "The Lady" of anything.

She had nothing.

A traitor's daughter.

A traitor's sister.

A traitor's wife.

In that order.

And she was alone.

Da was dead.

Mam was dead.

Robb was dead.

Jon was dead.

Arya was dead.

Bran was dead.

Rickon was dead.

But she, she was _alive_.

And she had grown stronger.

She was a capable fighter now.

And Tyrion was _alive_.

It was thanks to him that she had learned so much.

She understood balance now.

She understood fear.

She understood herself.

And for the past few weeks she had seen her life as a before and after Joffrey – but it wasn't, not really.

It was a before and after marrying Tyrion.

A before – when she thought heros were tall, beautiful and gallient. And when she later lost that faith.

And an after – when her knight turned out to be someone cunning, brave and gruff. And warm. And handsome.

Someone who restored her faith in miracles if not in fairytales.

He was going to do so much.

If Tyrion made it past Cersei, when Daenerys took over the throne, her husband could influence the politics of an entire kingdom.

But she worried if _she_ would make it past the journey back to Westeros.

It was hard to think that at one point in her life she had loved her country.

With all of its tales and riddles and history.

Now, she just wanted to live long enough to see Winterfell.

With the wolf on its walls again.

There was a knock at her door and she slipped back into her room.

Quickly catching a glimpse of herself in her mirror.

Sansa was still sweaty, and dark, from her early morning training session. There were new cuts on her arms and knees, and she was pretty sure her Septa was turning over in her grave right now, but she simply called for them to "Come in!"

She wasn't prepared for what came afterwards.

Sansa was as protected as anyone in the castle.

Or so she thought.

There were two of them.

One small and lanky that could have easily slipped in as a servant.

One large and burly that could easily have passed as a member of the visiting guard.

Her first instinct was to run towards the window but there was no way to get off of it without seriously injuring herself and the only escape route was blocked by their bodies.

So, she had to fight.

The large one ran towards her, reaching large meaty arms out as if to grab her.

She slipped to the side and gave him a firm kick to the head that knock him down and yet left her defenseless.

The lanky one slipped close, and pulled on her arm, his bony hand squeezing her wrist.

Sansa gasped in pain, as he pressed his thumb into her wrist bone.

She grasped his wrists, turned her hips and pushed him against the cold stone wall.

"Who are you!?"

He slammed his elbow into her stomach and she fell to the ground.

She'd never been chocked before.

She struggled, but it was excruciating to move her arms.

Something pointy ( _his knees?_ ) were pressing into her arm pits.

She reached up to up-hand his nose and yet he simply pulled it to the side.

Sansa realized something as she laid there.

His eyes.

There were empty.

An endless void.

And she realized something else.

She was going to die.

So, she panicked.

Ignoring the pain in her arms and legs she began to struggle, to scream.

She bucked up, smacked his face with her hand.

And as he was focused on chocking her and pining her other hand down she drove her finger into his eye.

There was a loud scream.

An "oof!" of pain and then Zander, the clumsy oof, appeared above her.

Hands reached for her and she panicked again, clawing at them in desperation.

She pulled away almost delirious with fear before her head clipped the side of the dresser at the end of the room.

* * *

Someone was screaming right next to her head.

"Are you…if Zander…"

There was a slam, a palm against wood.

"Enough…solved…respect…Bryden…you as well Tyrion"

There was a shuffle.

Something was covering her eyes.

She reached up to take it off but was quickly met with resistance.

"N-no, m-my lady," Zander's familiar voice whimpered, "You h-have to stay st-still."

His warm hand tucked the cloth? rag? over her eyes and lightly patted her arm.

"Sansa!"

Tyrion's voice was way too loud and she groaned in frustration.

She felt him physically pull back and his tone lowered.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, his fingers stroking her cheek.

There was more shuffling and there was a thud and then the heavy door to the room fell close.

"I-I don't know," she whispered, tears running out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheek.

* * *

 _"_ _Wh-what happened?"_

 _Tyrion continued to stroke her cheek, trying to comfort her._

 _"_ _Do you remember the attack?"_

* * *

Tyrion was pissed.

No, that didn't really cover it.

He was out to destroy.

* * *

 _Her forehead twitched and he was pretty sure she was wincing under the cloth._

 _"_ _Yes"_

 _"_ _They're both in custody, I'm going to figure out who they are and who told them to do this, Sansa, I promise"_

* * *

The dungeon was far from Sansa's room.

And he didn't mind the walk.

It lessened the tension and forced him to breathe.

* * *

 _Sansa shivered, when he pulled her into his lap, his arms holding her tight._

 _She gasped and then pulled herself up, using his shoulders to brace herself,_ _the cloth slipping from her face, her tears staining his jacket as she cried._

* * *

He knew he had to remain calm.

He was very aware that torture wasn't the best way to obtain information.

And he wasn't a violent man.

In fact, if golds or words could get him out of a hole he'd use both but now..

Now he suddenly wondered how good it would feel to stab one of those men repeatedly.

How good it would feel to watch the light drain from their eyes.

* * *

Drogo sat on the edge of the castle walls, his neck arching over the stone.

It was hard to be here when his brother was not.

And he wasn't exactly excited to face his mother either.

But they had no choice in the matter.

She had called them back and there they were.

Awaiting her…requests.

Drogo was a prideful creature, it wasn't in his nature to listen to anyone but he cared too much for the woman, his mother, to turn his back on her.

What she, and those other ones, didn't realize was that he was fully aware from within his stone. He had shuffled through history – passed hand-to-hand as men broke mountains and killed the "last" dragon.

His siblings his only companions as they devolved from beasts of terror and rage and fire, to mystical beasts of the past.

They were alive though and, if his assumptions were correct, that distant land, the one his mother wanted to go to had his brother.

He swooped from the edge of walls, his body hotter then the sun.

* * *

Davos stared at Jon.

Okay, so obviously you shouldn't bring people back from the dead.

Dangerous practice.

They come back mad, crazed, _insane._

Or maybe he had only just heard Jon Snow tell him he was going to attack Winterfell and rescue his brother.

He nodded to himself.

 _"The pain of losing Shereen has finally destroyed your mind Davos, time to get old"_

"So?"

Jon was staring at him calmly.

How could someone be so calm when requesting help to (without question) die.

There was a huff of smoke from the fireplace and Davos almost fell back again with shock.

The dragon had made itself comfortable in the large room.

Yeah, he was going crazy.

"Let's just say, for imagination's sake, you actually do amass an army to take Winterfell, what then?"

Jon was taken aback by the question and Davos thought he saw common sense start to- nope, it was gone.

"I take Winterfell, I save Rickon, after that well, it's up to him isn't it?"

"So you want Rickon to become a poster child to rebel against Cersei?"

Jon stared at him for a moment.

"No"

"I want him to rebel against the White Walkers"

"We both know they're coming Davos, they're going to breach the wall, they're going to head to Winterfell, and if we don't want all of humanity to die we have to do something about it now."

Davos sighed.

 _This is what you get when you try to follow kids around._

"Alright, where to?"

"Bear Island, they were always loyal to Stark, and maybe they'll be loyal now."

 _This one's too trusting._

 _He'll get us all killed._

"Alright, Davos said, standing up from the wall, when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow...if we're lucky we'll be there in a few weeks," Jon replied, who turned to leave.

" _I'm too old for this_ ," Davos said.

He sighed, shook of the chill, and followed after Jon.

Or was it Lord Snow now?

* * *

Arya is killing men when she sees the Black raven.

The last man dies, the blood spurting almost eerily smooth from his neck.

It, the bird, stares at her critically from the branch it's perched on.

" _It doesn't like her form,"_ she thinks.

She shakes the thought away and turns to wander even further South.

She always just misses them.

But Cersei's still alive.

She'll kill her if she kills no one else ever again.

The bird "squaws!" at her, almost indignant with rage.

"It's just a bird," she whispers.

It squawked at her again, offended, and disappeared.

* * *

Myriah Martell watched her second eldest child, Mayne as he trained, his movements flawless in the heat of the sun.

Mors, and Maron, his brothers, stood a good distance away, so focused on training that they hadn't even noticed her.

She patted Sasha, her stallion, and jumped off.

It was getting more and more difficult to sneak up on them like this, but it was a good type of challenge.

Myriah was prepared to jump but there was a snap of a branch near her, a good distance away.

She jumped.

But not at her sons.

Her sword drawn, she landed on a girl, her knees pressing into her back, her knife at her throat.

"Tyene," she laughed, her breath a hiss, drawing the girl's hair back.

"Do you normally interrupt other's training sessions so casually?"

She wasn't prepared for the knife at her throat.

"Let her up, _Scorpion,_ " someone hissed behind her.

Myriah laughed, her mouth a twisted smile, "Ah, Dorah, so nice of you to join us"

"Let her up!"

There was another snap of tree but Myriah was pissed.

She couldn't fight all three of them at the same time.

"Hey Mam"

Myriah laughed, pleased, "Hello, darling"

They all pulled back, Myriah slipped quickly out of Dorah's grasp, rolling off of Tyene.

She had seen what that little bitch could do with a knife.

"Get out of here," Micah, her eldest child said, throwing Tyene's knife at her.

The little snake caught it, her eyes narrowed.

"And if we don-"

"Don't even finish that sentence Tyene," Micah warned, the sun on his chest dazzling in the sunlight.

They looked at each other before they eventually backed away, leaving nothing but slight indents in the sand.

"They're getting too close," Micah said, putting his sword back in it's sheath.

"Yeah, well, there's not a lot we can do about it at the moment," Myriah replied, sighing.

"Let's go, we need to check on your brothers and then head back - your father is waiting for us"

Micah nodded and followed after her.

If they had been paying attention they would have noticed the two sets of eyes following them from the trees.

* * *

 **AN:/ I hope this new chapter was interesting...or at the very least something for you guys to read.**

 **Thanks again for reading and I hope ya'll have a great morning**

 **\- Reara**


End file.
